


Born a Gryffindor, Raised a Slytherin

by BriThinksSo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry Potter, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriThinksSo/pseuds/BriThinksSo
Summary: Harry Potter was raised by a wealthy, neglectful and abusive family. He finds out that he was adopted and in fact a wizard after receiving an invitation to 'Hogwarts University' at the age of 18. What if the mark of the Dark Lord implanted a different, malevolent characteristic in the tormented Boy Who Lived? What if Harry was placed in Slytherin and befriended Draco Malfoy?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 98





	1. One Hell of an 18th Birthday

I enter my parents mansion and send my beat-up lacrosse stick sliding across the wooden floor. The heavy duffel bag that hangs from around my shoulder thuds to the ground shortly thereafter.

I'm greeted by my mother washing dishes in the kitchen with her back to me. Her blonde hair is kept up in a nice neat bun. The apron wrapped around her waist protects the pale blue knee length dress beneath.

"How was the big game, sweetheart?"

"Brilliant," I blatantly lie wiping the inside of my blood, sweat, and grass stained jersey across my face. My mother could truly care less about the involvement of my sport, and there certainly was no need to fire up her interest today.

Besides, what was I supposed to say?

_The big game went great mum! Started a fight with a bloke from my own team who's twice my size, got my arse kicked, lost the ability to see color from out of my right eye, and somehow summoned a bloody snake onto said team mate! _

_Brilliant way to end the year!_

My cleats clunk against the stairs as I adamantly ascend to my destination. I'm exhausted, and my troublesome eye had yet to heal. I clench my injured and contaminated right eye shut while holding a protective hand over it.

"Harry?," mum calls after me stopping me in place. "Don't forget your mail."

After releasing an internal grunt, I turn on my heels and listlessly head back to the kitchen. She turns to me holding a magazine and a few envelopes. I reach to grab it from her but she quickly retracts her arm with a dramatic gasp.

Her eyes search my bruised and bloodied face with a scoff. "What did you do to your face?!" she scolds brushing my scraggly hair to the side. "Have you gone and instigated yet _another_ brawl, Harry? We've _talked_ about this!"

"I tripped." I swipe the mail from her hand as a petite envelope stuck to my magazine leafs to the floor.

"_Enough_ of the sarcasm." Mum grabs my chin and frustratingly shakes her head at me with the look of disappointment in her eye.

Nothing new.

"Your _father_ will be dealing with you tomorrow, and you know what _that _means."

"Yeah, alright."

"And don't you _dare _get any blood or muck on the new carpeting." She sighs placing the back of her palm pressed against her forehead. "With this behavior, how are we supposed to trust that you won't throw any parties while we're gone next month? I _told _your father that he shouldn't have scheduled that bloody cruise during your 18th birthday. Only a few weeks from college, nonetheless!" I roll my eyes as she plants both hands on her cheeks peering across the expensive furniture in the living room. "I can see the destruction now. My _poor_ linens.."

"_Mum!_" I cut off her banter failing to withhold the sheer agitation in my voice. "I won't throw any bloody parties. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Before she has the chance to retaliate at my snarky comment, I peck the side of her cheek, swiftly pick up the small envelope from the floor, stuff it in my back pocket and head for the staircase.

* * *

The steam from the shower clouds the mirror above my sink. I wipe a portion of the surface using the back of my forearm. Lines of condensation drip down my reflection as I lean closer.

My unkempt damp black hair straggles across my forehead and over my closed right eye. I have a busted lip, several bruises and a gash below my eyebrow.

My fingers fumble while scouting out my neglected, most likely expired, useless prescription eye drops from the medicine cabinet.

I tilt my head back and forcefully separate my eyelids that had been tightly clasped shut for hours. The hot liquid spreads across my eyeball with the consistency of lava. Both hands clutch the right side of my face as I rapidly inhale and exhale with great force. I curb the urge to holler at the top of my lungs while desperately rubbing the torturous sensation away.

After relentlessly blinking for what felt like hours on end, I finally manage to open my eye. My eyebrows lower as I inch closer to the mirror.

My injured eye could now _not only_ see perfect 20/20, despite my terrible eyesight, but the overall appearance had changed.

My emerald eyes no longer match.

The whites and iris of my right eyeball had morphed into a bright yellow hue that muddles into a dark orange.

And if the discoloration wasn't unsettling enough; a broad, snake-like diamond shaped pupil stares directly back at me.

* * *

**1 Month Later**

It's my eighteenth birthday, I'm alone at a pub, and I just received the worst news of my life.

I clutch the loathsome piece of parchment between my fingers crinkling the edges.

According to the letter, due to the violent fight with my teammate at our last game of the school year, my scholarship to UCL Lacrosse University had been revoked.

Apparently, someone who possessed the ability to vehemently summon a 6-foot diamondback snake onto another player in a fit of rage didn't make an ideal candidate for the college.

I'm unsure how I'm going to break the news to mum and dad. I can barely digest it myself.

It's the middle of July and there certainly wasn't enough time to apply to an alternative in due time.

I'm in denial, and I think I'll stay here for a while.

But on the upside.. my fake ID worked for once.

_Happy Birthday to me._

My fingers lace through my hair holding my head up as my eyes flicker between my drink and the beastly man hunched over at the bar adjacent to me.

"Bloody muggles. Can't tell the difference between gin and water if it hit 'em upside the head!" the gargantuan man booms.

I pray that my innate curiosity goes unnoticed as I examine the giant before me. He's easily 7-8 feet tall with an enormous tangled beard matching his equally bushy hair. His attire is.. unique. A petal pink umbrella appears to be attached to his waist.. in the middle of summer.

"Some day, eh?" He tilts his chin at me as his narrowed eyes observe the back of the retched letter held between my hands. "Ay, pardon me." He drains the martini glass held between three chubby fingers. "I don't mean teh rub it in, or nothin'. Especially on 'yer 18th birthday."

I blankly blink at him a few times as I skeptically place the letter face down.

Who the _bloody_ _hell_ is this guy?

And how the _bloody_ _hell _does he know it's my birthday? My 18th, to be exact? Even _if_ he had gotten a glance at my fake ID, it reads a December birth date.

The uncomfortable, perplexed expression on my face must speak for myself.

"Right." The giant reaches a hand into his floor length moleskin overcoat that hangs from his broad shoulders. His hand, practically the size of my face, reaches across the bar and offers a familiar minuscule envelope.

It was the _same_ envelope that slipped through the mail by clinging to a magazine mum handed me last month. The _same _unprecedented, humorous piece of mail I opened on the night of my last lacrosse game; an invitation to a college that teaches _witchcraft and wizardry._

Hilarious, I know.

I give in, smirking as I accept the letter from the giant. I was in no position to reject him at this point.

"I think 'yers was lost."

I finally respond in remembrance that I have vocal cords readily available. "I'm sorry. I think.." I glance at the envelope once more shaking my head.

_Mr. Harry Potter_

_Hogwarts University_

".. I think you have the wrong Harry."

My eyes flutter once more between he and the personalized archaic envelope.

"Erm.. I think not," he confidently states with a hearty chuckle.

I grimace at the poor man's delusion. I was in no mood to reason with the drunk.

However, there was something about the friendly twinkle in his eye that holds my patient attention.

"Harry Pearson," I adamantly clarify pointing toward my chest. "My last name is Pearson."

"Maybe 'yer adoptive parents' last name," he replies with a wink. "Gee, McGonagall sure wasn't lyin'. You really do have 'yer mother's eyes."

I can't shake the overwhelming curiosity he had evoked; too much _shit_ wasn't adding up.

"My _mother_ is half way across the world carelessly sipping margaritas as we speak," I reply in an unexpected tone of misery. "On my birthday.."

My stomach flips at the man's frustrated, annoyed expression. I certainly didn't want to be on this bloke's bad side.

"Have yeh ever.." He pauses with an elongated belch. "Pardon.. Have yeh ever had somethin' happen.. somethin' that you can't explain?" His all-too familiar eyes meet mine sending a chill up my spine. "Eh?"

"No," I bluntly reply as my curious eyes scan him once more. My overall intrigued demeanor fails to act less interested than I am.

"Somethin' like at 'yer game there, last month?" He inches forward in his seat, well aware that he has my full attention. Staring into my right eye he whispers, "'Yer eye did heal up pretty quick, if I do say so myself. Fascinating, that is."

My body heat rises, a cold sweat surfacing across my skin. My fingers twitch quickly brushing the hair across my forehead toward my right eye.

How does he know of my _deformity_, as my shithead bully of a teammate called it?

I stabilize my shaky hand, fish out my wallet, and place enough money to cover my drink on the bar top.

"I.. I have to get going."

With half a nod and not another word, I rotate the bar stool and place my feet on the ground. I don't risk giving him another look as I bolt toward the exit.

The summer breeze hits my face as I exit the swinging doors. My vision remains safe on the sidewalk as I make my way home.

"Oi!"

The daunting shadow of a group of about six guys approaches me to my right.

I keep my pace at the same rate and pay no mind.

_Minding my own business_; unlike others.

"Oi, Pearson! We were talking to you!" A second voice makes an appearance.

My pace slows as my right eye twitches. I incessantly rub both eyes with the back of my index fingers, momentarily blinding myself, and run straight into someone.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Watch where you're going, mate."

I stare up at Sean, my _shithead bully of a teammate_, and his crew encircling me. He repetitively pounds his fist into his other palm as he approaches me with a sinister grin.

"I don't want any trouble," I reply sincerely.

"That's too bad. I'm out of the hospital, and we have unfinished business to discuss."

An involuntary laugh escapes my lips as my head peculiarly tilts to the side. "Did it really take a _month_ to recover from a few punches to the head by a bloke half your size?"

The rough asphalt scrapes my chin and palms as I'm aggressively shoved to the ground. My circular glasses fly across the pavement cracking upon impact.

"You and I both know what happened." Sean kneels next to me as he adds, "It wasn't your puny wrists that almost got me killed, _freak_."

The jocks swarm around me in laughter like a pack of hyenas.

"Oi!" A bellowing voice from down the street distracts the herd of bullies as they freeze in place. "Six against one, eh? Well is that really fair, now?"

The drunken friendly giant from the bar casually approaches them, opening his flask with one hand. The other grips the curious pastel pink umbrella.

One of the idiots steps up to him puffing out his chest like a gorilla. "And who are you? One of his freakish friends?"

With a sudden flick of the wrist, the tail end of the behemoth's umbrella casts a blinding beacon of light against the night sky.

All six members of the group vanish into thin air, transforming into _dogs_ right before my fucking eyes. I want to scream, or piss my pants, but I'm too terrified to do either.

The colossal human crouches beside one of the hybrid animal-humans as I stare on in horror, and exhilaration.

"Rubeus Hagrid," he cheerfully answers the dog, delicately patting it on the head. "Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts University."

"What.. what are you?" My voice squeaks as he looks up to me. I subconsciously kick myself in the arse; I had _just_ watched him turn six guys my age into a pack of coyotes for questioning him, for fucks sake.

But I couldn't contain my intrigue.

I hold my breath as he sluggishly makes his way toward me. "Erm, an old friend." He offers a humongous hand, pulling my whole body above the ground before setting me on my feet. "Now don't you go tellin' Dumbledore about this. Not supposed teh use magic in the muggle world."

"Dumble- Dumble _what_?" I stutter. "Mr. Hagrid-"

"Call me Hagrid. _Mr. Hagrid_ would be me father," he chuckles delighted with his joke.

"Hagrid," I correct myself. "How did you.. magic?!" I had officially lost the ability to format sentences any longer.

"Ay, enough of that nonsense." Hagrid chuckles once more unscrewing the flask. "Now let's get goin'." He waves for me to follow after him.

"Get going where?"

"Oh for peets sake!" The giant frustratingly halts in place silencing me. "Hogwarts, o' course. Now let's get goin'!" He points to Sean and his friends - I mean, the _coyotes_ \- barking and sniffing each other in confusion. ".. Unless yeh'd like to stay o' course." He turns his back to me again, his long legs striding down the sidewalk.

Without another thought, I hock a loogie in the general direction of the pack of dogs and sprint after my new friend.

I think I could get used to him.


	2. The Wand That Chose Me

**The Next Morning**

"Pipe down, ya bloody 'lil mongrel!" Hagrid barks back at my parents little rat of a dog.

I lead the magical giant through my parents mansion, keeping note to avoid all chandeliers hanging overhead. It was in my best interest to avoid my guest's beard getting tied up in one of them. 

Mum would have a mental breakdown if any of her precious belongings were-

_Crash._

Speak of the devil.

My shoulders tense as I slowly turn to Hagrid; his index finger now in place of where my mother's antique glass vase used to stand.

"Hagrid!" I shout. Rosy cheeks and a guilty smile shine through his bushy beard. "_Don't touch anything._"

"'Er, sorry 'bout that." He bashfully wrings his enormous hands together as I turn to my staircase.

I ascend the stairs noticing that the expected prominent heavy footsteps behind me are non-existent. Instead, I hear the clanking of a few bottles from my father's liquor cabinet echoing down the hall.

"Hagrid!" I call after him again. The thud of his weighty leather boots slowly make their way toward the stairway as he appears in the hallway holding a handle of Fireball whiskey.

"Do 'yeh mind?" he asks unscrewing the cap.

"Well, actually I-"

The beastly man guzzles a quarter of the way through the bottle before I have the chance to respond. He half chokes removing the brim from his lips with an astonished expression.

He holds the label up close to his face smacking his lips together.

"Cinnamon whiskey. Now 'yer on teh something, muggles," he says with delight before taking another hefty gulp. 

* * *

I manage to get Hagrid in my room and immediately lock the door behind him. Hopefully the locked door half his size will keep him from venturing off to find another glass trinket or alcoholic beverage of my parents to violate.

If I could avoid a savage beating from my asshole of a father, I’d prefer that route. Breaking into his alcohol stash and a broken vase was already more than enough of a promise for a few bruises.

I grab the large suitcase from beneath my bed spreading it open on the floor. I hear the slosh of the whiskey against the surface as he places the handle on the dresser behind me. 

"Ay! Who be this?" 

_Crash._

"Oops." Hagrid bends over picking up the broken frame knocked from my night stand. "Err, I think I know a spell to fix 'er right up." He clears his throat removing the umbrella from his jacket.

"_No_," I use myself as a human shield between myself and the shattered picture beneath me. "_No_ magic in my parent’s house. You’ve done enough damage. _Don’t _touch anything!"

As expected, my words fall upon deaf ears as he kneels before me and picks up the picture. He lightly brushes the shards of glass from the photograph with close observation.

"Is this 'yer, uh.. 'yer.."

"My parents."

There's a tense silence in the room as the picture intently holds his attention. "Would you like 'teh see 'yer real parents, Harry?" There’s a newfound solemn severity in his tone.

My eyes dart from side to side with an uneasy sensation in my stomach. He hadn't brought up the fact I was 'adopted' since he briefly mentioned it at the bar. I was a _bit_ distracted after witnessing a whole group of wankers from my school turn into a pack of wild dogs before my eyes.

"Those _are _my parents," I agitatedly insist referencing the picture. "I'm barely even a year old in this."

His hand searches the unlimited number of hidden departments in his jacket. A wallet sized ripped up photograph hangs between two fingers as he offers it to me.

"That's 'cuz yeh were only 5 months old when 'yer parents.. when they, uh.."

My thumb traces the tiny picture in hand. A woman with strawberry blonde hair and bright green eyes stands next to a man with long dark hair well-kept across his forehead.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say the man in the picture didn’t look _exactly _like me; circular glasses and all.

I clutch the picture nearing it closer to my face. The woman's head in the photo suddenly appears to turn toward the man, and he looks over to her, as the photograph comes to life.

I gasp and aggressively flick it from my hand as if it had just burnt my finger. My eyes widen at Hagrid, thoroughly stunned. "That picture- it was.. why was it moving?"

"Well uh course it was movin'!" He lets out a hearty chuckle before picking the mini photograph from the floor. "Lily and James Potter, that is," he introduces.

Hagrid plops on my bed as the other end lifts from the floor struggling to support his weight. "'Yer parents were some of the finest witches and wizards that Hogwarts University had ever seen. And 'yer next, it's in 'yer blood. Dumbledore's 'sher of it-"

"They _were _the finest?" I question his usage of past tense. "Well, where are they now then? No offense, but if they’re such great wizards, why aren't _they_ in my bedroom instead of sending you?"

"'Er.." Another object miraculously emerges from Hagrid's coat as he peers down at the stop watch in hand. "We best get goin' now. 'Yer gonna need 'yerself a wand."

* * *

**30 Minutes Later**

Dog food spills across the floor as it overflows the tiny bowl. I balance my cell phone between my shoulder and head as I hastily empty the rest of its content. My parents would be home in a couple of days, and this would surely hold the little rat over until then.

I multitask, finishing up a bogus voicemail to my mother. I informed that I was leaving for UCL early; lacrosse practice, or some rubbish like that.

They wouldn’t care to question anyway.

"So _that's _what 'yer tellin' your 'rents, eh?" Hagrid questions with a judgmental brow raised. I shove my cell back in my pocket while trying to keep up with his pace. I near the front door hauling the oversized luggage behind me.

"If I’m being honest, I could _give_ _a_ _damn_ where they think I’ve run off too," I respond more agitatedly than intended. "Probably won’t even bloody notice.”

Hagrid halts stopping me in place. "Codswallop!” he booms. “A load of rubbish, that is! ‘Yer famous in the wizarding world, where yeh belong! Besides, yeh seem like a good fellow teh me."

Clearly the gentle giant wasn't too keen at getting a good read on people. 

I’ve never been one to be described as ‘a good fellow’.

I sigh, pass him out the front door, and make my way toward the two-person motorcycle parked out front.

* * *

"Pit stop!" Hagrid hollers over the loud engine of his bizarre scooter. He pulls over at one of the local dive bars. 

_What a surprise_.

After all, it had already been 45 minutes since his last drink.

I yank the helmet and silly goggles from my head before shaking my messy hair in place. Stumbling out of his funky motorcycle, I follow Hagrid inside the dimly lit joint. We pass the bartender and wait staff as we make our way back toward the kitchen. 

"Hagrid?" I inquire tapping him on the shoulder. "We passed the bartender," I state the obvious pointing my thumb the other direction.

He ignores my comment as we reach a dead end.

Hagrid’s massive fingers pull a billowy dark purple curtain to the side. His eyes scan the bland cobblestone wall that was curiously hidden behind it.

With three taps of the tip of his umbrella against the surface, the bricks begin to part like the Red Sea. Each brick is invisibly shoved to the side, perfectly stacking into each other like Legos. 

My mouth hangs agape in amazement. 

"Let’s get on then!" Hagrid casually steps through the other side of the wall.

I make sure to watch my step, cancelling out the chance of clumsily tripping through a fucking _portal_.

My surroundings rapidly change; from the inside of a dull dreary pub to the quaintest, most uniquely beautiful town I’ve ever seen.

And that was saying a lot, as I've seen a large majority of the world.

Well, sort of.

Mum and dad were required to drag me around with them when I was younger while travelling. You know, before I had the ability to stay home and trash their house with parties.

I was only allowed to view the cities we visited through hotel windows, and was required to stay in the room for the duration of our trips.

Too ‘_troublesome’_ of a child to experience the free world.

I bring my attention back to the cobblestone wall that I successfully don’t trip through. It had teleported us into a completely different area.

A completely different _world_.

The endless alley is filled with a swarm of people dressed in similar attire as wizards and witches from the movies. Draping robes, lengthy coats, pointed hats. 

I momentarily wonder to myself if they’re even wearing trousers beneath their robes. The second I make eye contact with an older gentleman, however, I shudder and force that question from my mind.

A numerous amount of tiny gift shops line each side, each uniquely shaped and designed perfectly in place. A trail of kids run past us giggling with hands chock full of different colored candies. 

The warmth of the bright sun graces my skin. I lightly shiver as goose bumps swarm my arms and legs.

It was the first time in my life that I felt truly euphoric. The first time I felt at home. 

The first time I felt that I _belonged_.

But if I’m required to wear a robe at this school.. I’m fucking wearing trousers.

I choose to withhold the roster of questions lined up in my brain as I'd quickly come to learn that Hagrid wasn't the best with his words. It was best to just sit back and enjoy the crazy, magical ride he had generously led me on.

And I had the innate feeling that this was only the beginning.

"Diagon Alley." He finally answers the unspoken question turning to me. "Beautiful, ain't it?"

I nod my head frivolously. The grin plastered across my face and untamed eyesight gives me the appearance of a kid in a candy store. A majestic, brilliant, _magical_ candy store. 

"I'll meet 'yeh here. This is where 'yeh get 'yer wand." He points to the gift shop on his left that has the outward appearance of a quaint library. 

"Where are you going?" I ask with a sudden wave of jitters. 

"Gringott's Bank. I have 'teh pick somethin' up fer.." I watch the wheels visibly turn in his head as he slowly says, ".. Fer_ Dumbledore._" He gradually nods his head while his eyes dart left and right. 

From the little bit that I had gathered, Dumbledore is the headmaster at Hogwarts University. The wizard of all wizards. One of the wisest and most powerful to _ever_ roam the Earth. 

Basically, someone I never wanted to fuck around with.

Surely, Hagrid was hiding something.. but if it involved Dumbledore, it quite frankly was none of my business.

I eventually obey his orders and make my way into the tiny shop. A bell above the door jingles upon my entry. I'm faced with an older man, probably in his mid 70's, with eccentric white hair and light stubble. His eyes widen once they lock on me. The crazed look in his eye reminds me of that of a mad scientist.

I smirk with an intimidated nod while slowly backing away.

"_Mr. Potter_!" The elderly man places both palms on the counter leaning forward.

My eyebrows raise in curiosity instinctively looking behind both shoulders. It takes a few seconds to register that the man was in fact speaking to me.

I still hadn't gotten used to the whole ‘Potter’ thing.

"Hello," I awkwardly reply. I halt the backward progression of my feet as the front door hits the back of my sneakers.

"Please, please, come in!" His friendly smile lures me deeper into the shop. I inch closer, enthralled by what appears to be millions of thin shoe boxes messily aligned behind him.

I patiently wait as I watch the man excitedly spin on his heels. He mutters under his breath while hoisting himself on a mobile ladder that slides between the aisles of mystery boxes. "Here we are!" One comes flying my way as he tosses it to the surface before me. The ladder clanks as it slides to his next destination. "And another one!" he joyfully adds, launching another one onto the counter.

I nervously crack my knuckles, unsure of what to do with my hands. So I shove them in my pockets.

"Well, don't just stand there, my boy. Try them on for a size!"

My fingers tenderly explore the top of the velvety black box. I lift the lid to find an approximately 10-inch, intricately and uniquely crafted stunning wand. 

After receiving another encouraging nod from the man, I gently pick it up between my index and thumb.

The dumb smile on my face is impossible to detain. I point the wand at my destination before assertively flicking my wrist. 

The targeted ladder before me viciously slams to one side throwing the elderly man to the ground. The wand slips between my fingers and rattles against the ground.

"Well, _don't point it at me_!!" he scolds.

"S-Sorry." Both of my hands sky rocket above my shoulders as I make my way behind the counter. I help him to his feet, grimacing at the flustered expression directed back at me. "Sorry," I repeat. His lack of response cues me into the fact that I had already successfully pissed off my first wizard. 

_Great_.

I notice his wild eyes are quickly distracted by something rolling along the floor. My attention now joins his, curious as to what was making the rattling noise beneath us.

The wand that I had just assaulted the old man with rolls across the floor and jolts against a stray dusty box in the corner. It’s behavior is lively and spastic, like my parents dog when it begged for food from the dinner table. The tail end of the wand impatiently taps against the box over and over before lifelessly collapsing to the floor.

"It _can't be._" The shopkeeper creeps his way to the pointed-out corner. He kneels down picking up the juvenile, now motionless, wand placing it in his pocket. Still crouched next to the neglected box, he peers up at me with a fascinated, almost disappointed expression. 

After pursing his lips and sending several specks of dust across the shop, he wordlessly hands over the box.

I accept his offer much more cautiously this time. 

There's a warm sensation emanating from within the box that rushes up my right arm. For a brief moment I become light headed followed by an intense adrenaline rush. My fingers delicately trace the uniquely embroidered snake across the velvet exterior. 

I do a quick double take between he and the content in hand, desperate for another reassuring head nod. 

_Some _indication that I was headed in the right direction. 

But I never receive it.

The shopkeeper remains stubbornly silent. His previous boisterous and kooky attitude had turned to pensive and inquisitive.

I finally gain the gumption to open the box.

Some sort of invisible laser beam ejects from within directly piercing my right eyeball. I yell out in pain cupping my hand over my face. As the box drops to the floor, the perilous wand eagerly levitates into my free hand. 

"Fascinating," the shopkeeper speaks slowly standing to his feet. "The brother wand to this one was once owned by.."

I place my both hands on my knees, the wand still grasped in one hand, as I try to catch my breath.

The pain had substantially dissipated.

Unfortunately, my eye sight had too.

I wince as I gain focus of the now warped, infrared elder man before me.

Avoiding the risk of being looked at like the _freak_ that I am, I cover my ugly bum eye. 

"Owned by who?" I ask in an attempt to divert the attention from my mutant eyeball.

He leans forward before whispering, "_He who must not be named._"

"What's holdin' 'yeh up, Harry?" Hagrid's deep voice startles us. I turn with my palm still held flat against the right side of my face. 

I glance at the wand lightly vibrating in hand. "I was just-"

"He was just finishing up," the storekeeper interjects. "Good to see you, Hagrid." He firmly grabs my shoulder twisting my body toward his. "We've found your wand, Mr. Potter."

"Wait, _what_?"

It’s not as if there weren’t _several thousand _other options to choose from. _Maybe_ a better option would be one that didn’t incite agonizing pain or temporarily distort my vision?

“I don’t like this one."

Lowering my right hand at a snail's pace, I'm delighted to find that my vision had returned to normal. Everything was back in color with perfect definition. 

"We do not _choose _the wand. The wand chooses _us_," the man informs with a friendly nod. "It was a pleasure in meeting you, Mr. Potter."

“Ay! How ‘bout we go get yeh a new pet, eh? Fer yer birthday!” Hagrid boisterously offers. “How ‘bout a frog, er an owl-”

“I’ve always fancied a snake,” I eagerly reply. “Mum would never allow such an _ugly creature_ in her house.. but I find them fascinating.”

“A snake?!” The frustrated speculation is plastered across the giants face. “Well, that’s no pet fer a wizard!” he harshly lectures.

Hagrid places an enormous hand on my back leading me toward the door. “See yeh around, Mr. Olivander.”

I place the retched wand in my back pocket as we near the exit.

"Mr. Potter?" The shopkeeper calls after me. I look over my shoulder stopping in place.

Mr. Olivander peers at me with a disturbed expression that would burn into my memory forever.

"Please, do be careful."


	3. Hogwarts Express

I slowly pass each cubby once inside the Hogwarts Express. My fellow college students surround me chattering away in excitement and impatience.

After I finished gathering the rest of my supplies in Diagon Alley, Hagrid dropped me off at King's Cross station. He simply handed over my train ticket, and then vanished into thin air by the time I had the chance to ask where the bloody hell I was even supposed to go.

From my experience, there was no '3/4' or '1/2' or '1/4' following a platform number.

I was left alone with overflowing luggage, a new pet owl, and a funky wand that I'm still unsure will either end up helping or killing me.

I had luckily found a friendly group of three fiery haired wizards at the train station. They attracted my attention when I heard the mysterious Platform 9 3/4 mentioned across the crowd. The youngest of the three brothers was in my grade, and his older twin brothers were going into their third year.

The bloke from my grade demonstrated just exactly how to get to this platform:

_Running full speed at a bloody wall._

I would be lying if I said I wasn't horrified, but his exuding confidence calmed my nerves. We seemed to naturally click at the time and I was happy to have possibly met my first friend.

But once I had made it to the other side of the wall, I had completely lost track of him.

And worst of all, amongst the chaos of _running full speed at a bloody wall_.. I forgot his name.

I was cooped up for a large majority of my life; restricted to my bedroom if I wasn't at a game or school, or in a stuffy hotel room if I was forced to travel.

Because of this, I suffer from terrible social anxiety.

Despite growing up with 'undiagnosed anger issues', I never got along with most of the kids at school.

And even though I played lacrosse, I definitely never reached popular-jock status. I didn't really belong to a group.. just considered myself as more of an outcast, I guess.

Which brings me to today; having to fit in with a bloody_ train full_ of teenaged witches and wizards.. one of which I already lost track of.

_Great start!_

After passing what felt like thousands of rows, I finally find a cubby that isn't filled to capacity. I'm faced with three blokes; one short and stubby, one tall and bulky, and one on the slender side such as myself.

The first two I mentioned are babbling on about something to the very uninterested blond sitting across from them.

I stall for a moment as they look up to me.

"Um.. hello." It's the only words I can think of.

The short fat one looks down his nose at me. "And who are you?"

My eyes slowly scale between the three. ".. Harry."

"Harry Potter," the blond states matter-of-factly. He straightens his posture before resting his back against the cushioned seat. It's hard for me to get a read on him and his lackluster tone doesn't help.

"Uh, sure." My newfound popularity makes my cheeks uncomfortably flush.

"_Harry Potter_," the tall one mocks as he and the short one share a hearty laugh. The beady eyes of the taller one peers straight into mine. The intimidating look – I mean attempted intimidating look – in his eye makes my lips shutter as I hold back a snicker.

"Crabbe. Goyle." The clear leader of the group silences them. "Don't be _rude _to our new celebrity."

My eyebrows naturally furrow as my eyes curiously dart between the three.

Was he being friendly?

Was he joining in on the mockery?

Wait- why were they even mocking me in the first place?

"Well, what're you standing there for?" the bloke with grey eyes denounces. This time, he makes it easy to detect the irritation in his tone. "Have a seat."

His two minions scoot to the side of the bench leavening minimal space for myself to sit. Apparently, anyone sitting beside the leader of the group was not allowed.

"Think I'll stand, thanks."

I peek my head out of the cubby, let down once again, as I regretfully fail to recognize my friends from the platform.

"Suit yourself." His eyes scan me up and down with an arched brow. "This is Crabbe," he introduces pointing to the stubby one. "And that's Goyle."

They both side eye me with the briefest indication of acknowledgement. It was as if their mum had just ordered them to play nice with the rest of the kids at the playground.

"And I'm Malfoy." He dramatically snaps his neck toward me as he adds, "Draco Malfoy."

"Well, clearly you already know who I am. So I won't waste my breath," I joke receiving zero reaction.

I uncomfortably clear my throat and politely extend my arm toward him. The five second pause he holds sends me into a light sweat before I retract my hand.

A denial of my first handshake.

_Thanks for escalating my social anxiety, mate_.

I could curl into a ball of humiliation.

But maybe that's what the bloke wanted; to see me scramble.

Two could play at that game.

We thoroughly size each other up before Malfoy reclines back in his seat, placing his chin on his fist and gazing out the window.

There's a solemn, broken.. _dark_ facade that holds my fascination.

It was as if I saw a side of myself in him.. and _not _a good side, I should note.

"Well this has been.." My thumb points in the other direction as I try to come up with an excuse. My eyes defeatedly close shut as I candidly add ".. extremely uncomfortable." My eyes flutter open as I begin to back away. "It's been a pleasure," I state dryly.

"Don't become a stranger, _Potter_." Malfoy holds a noticeable spiteful enunciation of my last name.

"Don't worry," I reply placidly. "I won't."

Malfoy raises an entertained brow, the shadow of a smirk on his face, as he turns to peer out the window once more.

I let out an unkempt sigh of frustration as I turn the corner. My fists hold clenched at my sides as I continue my journey down the aisle.

_Breathe, Harry._

_Breathe._

A group of familiar voices catches my attention from a couple rows down.

_Finally_.

I enter the cubby to find the same animated group of redheads from the platform. "Chug Ron, chug!" both twins cheer on their youngest brother.

_Ron. _

_That was his name._

Ron finishes the beer before crushing the can on his head and flexing the invisible muscle on his right arm. I chuckle with the rest of the guys as they turn to me.

"Oi! Harry!" The extrovert motions his hand for me to join them. Ron hands me a beer before leading us into a toast. "To Hogwarts University!" We all cheers before cracking open our brews.

My cheeks hurt from grinning as I hadn't smiled since.. I don't even remember when.

Ron's lower lip suddenly drops as his eyes zone in on my hand. "What is _that_?"

"Oh, it's uh.." I glance to the cellphone that tended to stay glued to my hand at all times. "My iPhone."

"Your wha'?" George and Fred ask in unison.

"It's a cellphone," Ron scolds his brothers as he swipes the phone from my fingers. "But this one.." His eyes widen as his fingers trace the glass casing. "They're really rare. Dad hasn't had the chance to get his hand on one."

"Are you yanking me?" I question. "iPhones have been out for over 10 years! This isn't even the latest edition."

"There are _editions_?" Fred leans over his brother's shoulder gawking at the technological device. "Bloody brilliant, those muggles."

The iPhone screen lights up as I receive a text. "What's it doing?" Ron hesitates, now delicately cradling the device in both hands like a baby. "Did I break it?"

"_No_," I chuckle swiping the phone from him. "Invading my privacy is more like it."

The genuine confusion on their faces gives off the vibe that I was suddenly speaking a new language.

"I've noticed that your family is.. em.." I narrow one eye as I observe their ragged luggage and clothing. ".. modest. But surely you own cell phones?"

"We aren't muggles, mate." George replies in a tone that makes me feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. "We've got no use."

"Muggles," I try to keep up. "So you don't fancy alcohol?"

The responsive roaring laughter in my face frankly pisses me off.

But my humiliation is short lived as I reassure myself that there clearly was a language barrier taking place.

"Is this not considered alcohol, George?" Fred taunts as they tap beer cans.

"Hagrid called the bartender a muggle!" I irritably insist. "And whoever created Fireball whiskey-"

"Oh! That's what he's saying!" Ron encourages his brothers. "Hagrid's a bloody alcoholic, that git."

"Thanks Ron," I reply sarcastically. "Took myself a while to figure that one out.." I withhold an eyeroll while taking a seat on the bench.

I couldn't have been on this train for more than an hour and I was already confused and agitated to high hell.

This experience was surely going to test my patience, and I certainly wasn't well-known for having much to offer in the first place.

"Muggles are non-magic folk." An angelic voice appears from the heavens, putting an end to my ignorant misery.

I do a double take at the attractive brunette with long wavy curls who stands in the entrance to our cubby with both hands perched on either side of the doorway.

The self-assured smirk on her face silences all of us. Her eyes uncomfortably transition between the four of us; all of us blokes gawking at her beauty.

"And who are you?" George asks in a much nicer manner than Gargoyle; or whatever the bloody hell his name was.

The witch grabs her bookbag from the floor, stacking several textbooks into one arm. She invites herself in our booth and takes a seat across from me with her books held close to her lap.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she introduces with a confident voice. "And.. you are?"

"Geor- Fre- Ro- Harr-" The guys and I grimace after eagerly talking over each other.

"I'm Ron," the wanker beats us to the punch. "Ron Weasley."

"Fred. George." The twins introduce each other.

Hermione lightly smiles to the three. "Pleasure." Her eyes ultimately fall on me as I squirm in my seat.

"Harry," I blurt with a brief hand raise.

I look between the three who act as if they had never been around a girl before. I take initiation, _as I if I had the choice_, and turn the attention to the textbooks held safely against Hermione's lap. "Getting a head start on the curriculum?"

"Oh, God no!" She places a hand over her heart in shock. "I'm rather behind. I mean- I've learned all of the set textbooks by heart, but there's still _much_ to be learned."

"You're telling me," I respond with a light chuckle. "At least you all have had previous schooling."

"No, mate." Ron slowly shakes his head without looking at me. "I think she's new too. I would have noticed her." He promptly turns tomato red at the realization of his transparent attraction to the bird.

"That's nice of you to say." She kindly smiles purposefully ignoring his awkward comment. "And you'd be correct."

My eyebrows furrow in disbelief of the bookworm.. I mean, she had_ just_ said that she knew the entire bloody textbook by heart for fucks sake!

"So.. I'm not the only first year?" I skeptically confirm. I'm having trouble believing that this was her first experience in the wizarding world as well.

"Technically you're all first-years at the University, mate," George pesters.

"_Oh_, you know what he meant," Hermione defends folding her arms. "And no, Harry." She turns to me with warm friendly eyes. "You aren't the only one. Mum and dad were rather surprised when I received my letter over summer," she shares. "Both muggles."

"A _muggle born_?" The twins say in fascination. "Our dad studies them."

"He's my dad too," Ron unnecessarily adds.

"Is that right?" Hermione opens up her bag and pulls out _another _book; this one hand held and most likely for free time. "Appears as though Harry and I will have much to fill you blokes in on, then." Her eyes flicker to me before casually opening her book and readjusting in her seat.

I can't hold back a grin.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a lonely experience after all.


	4. Sorting Hat Ceremony

**That Evening**

Two doors the size of three Hagrid's stacked on top of each other reveal a breath-taking auditorium in a church-like setting referred to as the Main Hall.

Candles magically hang and levitate from the ceiling hovering over the students. Individual fires erupt from intricately crafted statues lining the walls as we pass.

Professors of all different shapes and sizes are seated in a line front and center.

The freshmen were told to wait at one of the lengthy cherry wood tables until further instruction. I remain in the company of the trio of redheaded brothers. I had _zero_ interest in losing track of them again.

"There's Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor-" Ron is interrupted by his rowdy brothers loud cheers. "And Slytherin."

Fred howls “_Booo!”_ cupping both hands around his mouth.

"So, I take it that the Weasleys are notorious Slytherins, then?" I lamely joke. Fred and George give me a sympathy 'ha ha' before taking a seat on either side of me on the bench. 

"Listen mate." George wraps his arm around my neck pulling me into a headlock. "Us Gryffindors are fierce, _courageous, _brave_.._"

His twin mirrors the adjectives making silly mannerisms while flexing his muscles.

"But most importantly, we get _all the_ _ladies_."

The boisterous crowd of guys surrounding us burst into cheer and laughter.

Within a matter of seconds they fall deafly silent.

I peer over George's shoulder and make eye contact with one of the professors in her mid 60’s. She's very thin, and is wearing a bright emerald robe with a pointed black hat. Her expression is stern and impassive.

She aggressively taps a rolled-up piece of parchment on both twins' shoulders from behind.

"Professor McGonagall," they briskly acknowledge in unison. 

"Good to see you ma'am," Fred notes. "Looking lovely as always."

"Save it, Weasley. Join your class," she demands pointing her thumb in the other direction. “The both of you.”

Without missing a beat the twins and upper classmen divide to their designated tables. They scramble to each respective table representing the four houses.

"Good evening students," Professor McGonagall addresses the freshmen at the forefront of the auditorium. "It’s time to begin the sorting ceremony. When I call your name, I will place the sorting hat upon your head who will then assign which house you belong in. Such assigned house shall remain your home for the duration of your time here at Hogwarts."

"Good luck mate," Ron whispers with a nudge of his elbow. “I’ll see you at our table.”

I finger the collar of my dress shirt to breathe some air down my neck. I had been compartmentalizing the hesitation I’ve felt ever since I heard about the whole ‘house’ situation.

To be honest I had the gut feeling that I wouldn’t end up with my friends.

I still hadn’t really wrapped my head around the difference between each house.. but I sure as _hell_ knew that I wasn’t one of the Weasleys.

Don’t get me wrong.

They’re a group of great blokes; each brother a part of a wholesome family who was unconditionally loved and cared for.

I couldn’t resonate with that.

And this was aside from their overall cheery disposition and light-hearted façade that tended to oppose mine.

My hope was that their positive influence would help shine some light during my time here at Hogwarts. So, I keep the pessimistic thoughts to myself.

Besides, maybe the tired old hat could be manipulated; it was one of my finer qualities, after all.

At least that’s what my parents have always told me.

_‘Too smart for my own good’_.

I think back to the days as an eight-year-old; peering outside my bedroom window watching the kids on my street ride bikes and play hop scotch together. All I ever wanted was to feel accepted and to be part of a group.

But whenever I complained about being withheld from such, my mother emphasized that I was simply ungrateful and a spoiled brat. Apparently, a brand-new game console or television was supposed to fulfill my inner loneliness and insecurities.

Aside from being _manipulative_ and _ungrateful _for yearning for normalized socialization, I’ve battled suppressed anger issues all of my life. In high school when the self-instigated fights came to fruition, my father reprimanded that I was throwing tantrums simply to get attention.

Well, maybe if he had given an ounce of attention other than to yell at me for poor grades, or whipping my arse for tracking mud into the house, I wouldn’t throw as many _tantrums_.

_Brilliant problem solving, dad!_

Speaking of which; my ‘smart mouth’ was the _main _reason for getting smacked around, and why I have a significant cigarette burn on my inner forearm.

All I ever wanted was to feel that I belonged; to not be withheld from what my parents thought that I _should _be_, _as opposed to growing up like a normal child who finds out _on their own _who they truly are.

My art of ‘manipulation’ was the only way to get around their asinine treatment in the first place. It was self-learned to influence situations to my benefit.

Was I being manipulative?

Barely.

I preferred to call it _cunning._

I turn to Ron giving him a reassuring head nod. "See you there, mate."

* * *

"Harry Potter!" McGonagall calls me to the front. 

I temporarily make eye contact with the headmaster who adjusts in his seat in noticeable intrigue. I anxiously crack my fingers like a mad man from beneath my draping robes. 

And yes, I’m wearing trousers.

I sit on the stool straight as a board and place both clammy hands in my lap. I gaze across the sea of students who had noticeably turned silent while watching with great intent.

Ron and the twins lean forward at the Gryffindor table erratically waving and silently cheering. Hermione sits across from them who had just been placed. She leans her elbow against the table with her head rested against her fist. She gives a bashful smile and joins them in waving. 

I close my eyes as the weighty leather hat is placed upon my head. I lightly cringe as it wobbles back and forth, adjusting itself for the best feel.

"Hmm.. difficult" it begins. "_Very difficult_."

I patiently hold my breath with eyes squeezed shut. 

"Plenty of courage I see," the sorting hat continues. 

_Courage. That was one of the qualities George had listed. Good. On the right track._

"A thirst to prove yourself.."

_Yep. I’m a serious lacrosse player after all. I'm no stranger to competition._

"But where shall I put you?"

_Gryffindor._

"I'm not so sure," it replies to my inner request. 

_Well, you should be. Put me in Gryffindor._

"Gryffindor, eh?"

I nod my head, eyes clenched shut, the grasp of my clasped hands tightening.

"But there's a fire burning inside of you!" the magical hat roars startling me. "A _dark _fire. A fire within..”

_Okay, well you got me there.._

“A fire not too different from a student I attended to many, many years ago."

A pin drop could be heard across the massive hall. And if I didn’t know any better, the rest of my classmates were just as uneasy and nervous for me as I was. Beads of sweat form along my forehead and I pray I don't get the ornery hat dirty.

"This feeling, I'm afraid, cannot be ignored..."

_Damn. I bloody knew my gut feeling was right. But come on! I need friends! Don’t ruin this for me._

"Friendship isn't everything, Mr. Potter," the hat insists. "I must place students in the correct house where proper teaching will cater to their needs. Whatever those needs are _destined to be._"

It was painfully obvious that my gut premonition was proving to be correct. And although the mind reading hat was open to negotiation with my requests, it certainly wasn't receptive to obeying them.

_Ah, screw it. Stupid bloody hat. Hopefully they’ll still be my friend once I’m placed in-_

"Slytherin!!" the hat roars.

I let out an exacerbated sigh as my eyes slowly flutter open. I sharply inhale in response to the audience surrounding me. They appear intimidated, restless, discontent; all the while avoiding direct eye contact with me. And unlike previous students who received applause from _at the very least_ their own house, each table is dead silent. 

Each _professor _is dead silent. I instinctively turn my head to the row of teachers behind me.

Hagrid's eyebrows are furrowed and he slowly shakes his head in disbelief. My heart drops as my eyes drag to Professor Dumbledore who holds a similar expression. His lips are in a thin line and his eyes are shut in what appears to be deep disappointment. 

Somehow I had just managed to let the entire wizarding world down within a matter of seconds.

McGonagall finally removes the dreaded hat from my head as I quickly bolt from the stage.

I accelerate my feet toward the table decked out in green and silver with my head held low. I'm mortified, pissed, and more than anything _fucking confused_.

Granted, Slytherin held a bad rap according to Fred’s boos.

But_ why the bloody hell _didn't anyone else get this response after being placed in the troublesome house?

"_Potter_,” a familiar voice hisses. I look up to find Malfoy seated at the very end of the Slytherin table next to Crabapple and Gargoyle.

At least there was _one_ person in the auditorium who had a smile, or more so a mischievous smirk, on their face. Malfoy tilts his head to the side silently offering a seat.

"Thanks," I mutter under my breath as I plop on the bench.

"I underestimated you," he states in a low tone. His eyes glow as they excitedly scan my face in a way that makes my stomach churn. The sinister facade that I had previously picked up on eagerly comes to the surface.

Unlike before, he reaches out his arm and offers to shake my hand. I lower my eyebrows as my left hand hesitantly nears his.

I had been faced to make a deal with the devil and was left with no other option in the moment.

I sternly grab his hand with a firm shake as the smirk widens on his face.

“Meet me in the Common Room at 11 PM sharp,” he instructs. “We have matters to discuss.”

I give a dismissive nod as I turn my attention to the Gryffindor table. All three Weasleys solemnly peer at me from across the room.

Malfoy follows my line of vision and possessively throws an arm around my shoulders. I resentfully peer at him from the corners of my eyes as he pulls me closer. “Welcome to Slytherin, Potter. I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together."


	5. The Housemate Who Told Me Everything

The house prefect leads us to the entrance of our dormitories; more well known as the Slytherin Common Room.

The Slytherin dormitory, albeit gloomy and grim, is simply breath taking.

An assortment of lit bright green candles levitate across the high ceilings emanating a neon glow.

Snakes, our _wicked _mascot, are dispersed throughout the room. Serpent statues with glistening emerald eyes follow us as we pass, and reptilian glass stained windows riddle our surroundings.

An assortment of long jungle-like vines hang from the skylight above us. Enchanted lime green fireflies peacefully rain from the skylight mesmerizingly fluttering across the room.

I eagerly look to Malfoy with a grin who apathetically yawns in response. Apparently the majestic, ripped-straight-from-a-movie dormitory that we now lived in wasn’t anything special to the blond.

I had realized along our brief tour that Draco wasn't a man of many words. He kept to himself with a recognizable guard held up. He was possibly misunderstood and pushed people away.

That is, aside from his set of devoted groupies who _have_ _yet_ to leave our bloody tail.

Outside of Malfoy’s loyal followers, I classified him as an outcast such as myself.

I generally ate most of my lunches alone even though I had a couple of friends from my lacrosse team.

And I was fine with that.

This was probably due to the fact that I never possessed the ability to truly connect with someone on a platonic or romantic basis. Growing up with little maternal or paternal warmth affected me greatly.

At least, that’s what my therapist tells me.

Wait til she hears about _this:_

_I apologize for my sudden disappearance, Dr. Smith. You see, I was off casting spells and flying on broomsticks at my new college for the last few months. Hope we can pick up from where we left off!_

Yeah. That’d get me sent to a ward straight away.

Anyways.. back to Malfoy.

I saw myself in him, yet there was an inner discontent with this premonition. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I was satisfied with the idea that I could find a good friend in Draco.

We’re soon faced with the men’s dormitory. Each dorm is divided into duo bedrooms just big enough for two beds.

Malfoy and I decided it best to room together. Neither one of us wanted to end up stuck living with Crabapple or Gargoyle.

We solidify plans to meet by the fireplace in a couple of hours to get to know each other better over a few drinks. In the meantime, I claim my bed in the corner and start to unpack.

* * *

I had the opportunity to finish unpacking and shower just in time to meet Malfoy.

It's well into the night, and I'm shocked to find that most of our housemates had already gone to bed.

I guess the cases of beer consumed on the train _plus_ the humongous feast did the trick.

I find Malfoy reclined in one of the pine green chairs in the Common Room. The lamp hanging overhead projects an emerald glow against the whitish long bangs brushed across his forehead. He's wearing a dress shirt and tie underneath a tailored black suit.

I look down at my dirty converse, ripped jeans and colorful flannel in embarrassment. I guess I didn’t receive the memo to show up dressed in attire fit for a job interview.

With one leg propped on the other, Malfoy turns to me holding a glass of bourbon with an ovular ice cube. 

"Put that _rubbish_ down," he harshly orders in disgust.

I peer at the cheap can of beer in my hand. He passes me and opens a diamond shaped glass vase filled with bourbon. The ice crackles against the warmth of the alcohol as he fills it to the brim.

I vehemently toss my beer in exchange for the whiskey. He takes a seat and I follow suit, grabbing the couch adjacent to him.

"You've certainly put Dumbledore into quite the panic. Trying to give the old man a heart attack, are you?" Malfoy smirks staring into the fire, the reddish hue lighting up his face.

"I'm sorry.. what?"

"The _famous_ Harry Potter; a _Slytherin_," he continues the one-sided conversation in amusement.

"You know what; why does it matter if I'm a bloody Slytherin?!" My built-up animosity and impatience could be held back no longer. "_Why_ am I the 'famous Harry Potter'?" I wildly quote with my fingers. "Why does everyone know who I am_.. _or_ give a shit _for that matter?"

Malfoy makes eye contact for the first time since I entered the room. Apparently my impromptu interrogation sufficed his attention. His stormy grey eyes are dangerous and give off the unsettling appearance that he’s closely zoning in his prey.

His prey, meaning _me._

"You really don't know, do you?" he darkly states with lowered eyebrows. “I thought it was all an act.”

“Thought _what _was a bloody act?” I pinch the bridge of my nose with my index and thumb. "All I know is that my biological parents are wizards. Hagrid didn't care to tell me much else."

"Hagrid?" I notice him dramatically grimace from out of my peripheral. "Well what’d you expect? That big bumbling oaf can't even count to ten."

"_Oh _shove off,” I irritably groan. “Hagrid's my friend, mate."

Malfoy’s eyebrows immediately furrow peering at me sideways. I stand my ground as I watch him process the defense of his unnecessary harassment.

Apparently my disconcerting comment was a difficult pill to swallow. I don’t think the bloke was used to many people disagreeing with him to his face.

Well_ that _was coming to an end_._

He chose the wrong bloke to room with if he expected me to blindly follow him around and stroke his ego like dumb and dumber.

After another sip of whiskey Malfoy decides to guide the conversation back on track. "The _reason _you're the _famous _Harry Potter.." he agitatedly continues. ".. You're what they call the ‘Boy Who Lived’." 

"The ‘Boy Who Lived’?" I repeat with a chuckle. "Lived through what? Surviving the suburbs of London for a large majority of my life? Sure, that was _quite_ the feat I suppose.”

Malfoy doesn’t take well to my sarcasm. There isn’t the slightest indication of a smirk or amusement on his face.

“Your biological parents; they’re _dead _Potter,” he impassively delivers the unexpected emotional blow.

"Wait.. _what_?"

My chest severely tightens in dull pain. I'm shocked to find that the passing of my biological parents, who I’ve _never even met, _hurts this bad. 

Plus, it only made sense that they were dead; I even questioned Hagrid about why they hadn’t come looking for me themselves!

But that didn’t make it any easier to hear the bleak truth.

"I give my condolences." Draco clears his throat shifting in his seat. He rests his arms on the sides of the chair while looking to me with – _I think_ \- sincere empathy. “Father says they were great. _Too _great, if anything."

I bring the rim of the glass back to my lips, welcomingly accepting the satisfying burn of whiskey as it slides down my esophagus.

I join Malfoy’s gaze into the fire pit. "What happened to them?"

"Voldemort," he simply replies. 

My foot nervously taps against the floor as I sit in a trance.

In remembrance of my ignorance of.. you know, _my entire life,_ Malfoy continues. "My father refers to him as The Dark Lord. A master of _great_ ambition and a proud Slytherin.”

I’m antsy and can’t sit still for the life of me.

I’m up on my feet again.

I press my palms to my forehead as I make my way to the self-serve bar. My glass is bone dry and I'm well aware that I'm going to need another drink.

“He’s feared by all,” Malfoy adds with noticeable admiration in his voice. “All powerful."

I think back to that kooky wand bloke from earlier. "_He who must not be named_," I think aloud as I fill my glass.

Draco snorts in amusement. "That's what the spineless lot around here call him. But I say his name with_ great pride_." 

I almost shatter the diamond vial as it comes slamming to the glass table. 

"Maybe _you’re_ the spineless one, Malfoy," I seethe. “Who the bloody hell talks like that? You just told me he _killed_ my parents._”_

I storm toward him with my fingernails digging into my palms. My pace hesitates as my eye twitches and begins to blur. I blink repetitively as it momentarily goes dark.

I sharply inhale, afraid of what my unpredictable bum eye would do next.

My deformity reacted to certain emotions as I grew up; anger and fear being the most noticeable. But as of late, the reactions had grown stronger and more debilitating. Certain things would happen that were unexplainable.

Certain things, at least, before I knew I was a bloody _wizard_.

I hear Malfoy’s prominent footsteps and promptly turn away from him.

I’m naturally led to the soothing darkness of the corner of the Common Room where I blink over and over until vision returns in my right eye.

But this wasn’t normal vision.

I reach my hand out into the pitch black, exploring the surface of objects that are now viewable.

I alternate closing each eye. The vision from my left eye promptly goes dark, and the vision from my right eye gives off some sort of fluorescent lighting.

I promptly learn that my bum eye gave me the ability to see thingsin the fucking_ dark_. 

My body temperature shoots through the roof as I break into a light panic. My feet stumble over each other as I back away from the shadowy area.

"Don't you want to know _why _he killed your parents?" Malfoy tempts from behind. My chest heaves as I begrudgingly turn to him. "_You_, Potter. Voldemort wanted _you_."

A light shiver runs through the course of my body. I slowly creep from the side of the room and fully emerge from the darkness.

"And when you didn't die, it damaged him a great deal. Some say he died. Father on the other hand-" Malfoy abruptly stops his sentence with shifty eye contact. "Your eye. What's it doing?"

"Nothing." I quickly cover it with my right hand.

"Lower your hand," he demands. He sets his glass down before impatiently pacing toward me. 

The moment I feel his hand grab my forearm I instinctively shove him a few steps back.

The hand covering my face lightly relaxes as I peer at him through my fingers. He scoffs while frustratingly straightening his jacket.

To be honest, I was tired of keeping this unconventional condition to myself. And if anything, my corrupt housemate was in no place to judge. 

I let out a grunt as I involuntarily take a step toward him.

“Bloody hell, _fine._” I promptly whip the hand protecting the right side of my face and daringly stare him directly in the eyes.

As expected I receive yet another disgusted _'what a fucking freak_' expression. But it's short lived as a captivated smile creeps across his face. 

"_Brilliant_," he states in clear admiration.

I glance to a silver handheld mirror and pick it up from the cocktail tray raising it to my face. I stare back at the bright, sunrise toned, orange and yellow color surrounding my pupil. My pupil had once again turned into a distinctive diamond shape that vertically stretches the length of my eyeball.

"So what they've been saying is true then?" Draco emerges into view from behind the mirror. The wild look of intrigue in his eye remains.

I slowly shake my head in confusion prompting him to continue. His voice lowers. "It's said, that when Lord Voldemort failed to kill you, it weakened him. Weakened him so greatly, that _now_, a piece of him lives inside of you."

My right eye pulsates as it begins to sting unlike before. I ferociously shake my head in denial. A wave of uncontrollable fear washes over me.

I make a run toward my unattended drink.

My shaky hand spills a bit of alcohol on the table beside the glass. “It’s a little unnerving, how much you know about me, Malfoy. I would say I’m flattered, but-”

"Is anyone informed of your condition?” he ignores my statement. “Does anyone else know about your eye?"

"No." 

"Your trust in me hasn’t gone unnoticed, Potter." He grabs my shoulder forcing me to face him. "Now I'm _certain_ there was a reason that tired old hat placed you in Slytherin." 

My jaw remains locked shut and I'm barely listening to a word he's saying.

"You and I will make a brilliant pair, Potter. _Unstoppable_." Malfoy yanks the glass bottle from my grasp and neatly pours each of us a fresh glass. "But for now, your condition is best left secret." I peer back at him hesitatingly clinking my glass against his. "_Our _little secret."


	6. Opposing Sides in Potions Class

I tighten the green and silver infused tie up to my neck using the mirror for reference.

I stare back at the dark circles beneath my eyes reflecting the lack of sleep from the night prior. My hair is damp from the shower, and my eyes are bloodshot red; _refusing_ to accept the contact for my right eye.

I drape the circular glasses over my nose that still have profound cracks in both lenses.

Lightly hung over, emotionally violated and severely lacking rest, I finally gain the gumption to make it to the first class of the year.

Potions.

I enter the eerie classroom that solely relies on minimal natural lighting. Minor sunshine emits through the glass stained windows and candles are evenly distributed throughout the room. Cauldrons are positioned on each table overflowing with holographic smoke.

"Oi! Look who it is!" Ron approaches me with a warm welcoming smile. "I thought I'd never see you again after running off from the ceremony like that. Best be seeing you at the first-year initiation celebration tonight, mate. Everyone will be there. It's the biggest party of the year!"

I uncomfortably scratch the back of my neck feeling my cheeks burn. "Em.. I'm not in the most social of moods. Don't feel there's much for myself to celebrate," I answer honesty.

"Don't worry mate," Ron reassures, throwing an arm around my shoulders and guiding me toward his seat. "That sorting hat's been around for centuries. Surely it's bound to make a mistake at some point or another."

We approach the group of Gryffindors surrounding Ron's table snickering and whispering to one another. As expected, their eyes remain glued to me silently judging my every move.

_Harry Potter, the 'Boy Who Lived'; a controversial Slytherin, befriending Ron Weasley; the eccentric outspoken redhead whose family represents the Gryffindor house with great pride._

_Both pinnacles of their respective, opposing houses._

I've already been doing quite the number on myself ever since the grim revelation of my parents' history, and I have little patience receiving the same scrutiny from those who _don't even know me_.

"And besides." Ron stops in place turning to me. He squares my shoulders with his hands so I'm forced to look at him. "You _are_ a Gryffindor. At least to me."

"Thanks mate," I mutter forcing a smile.

Unfortunately, his kind words leave little effect, as I glance to the Gryffindors behind him who clearly aren't in agreement. They continue to giggle amongst themselves, some even pointing directly at me.

I had left that 'muggle' town of mine to find a new life; a life in which I wasn't constantly objectified as a _freak_.

My 'dark inner fire', as the hat accurately depicted, ignites with unkempt flames.

I had received enough bullying in high school for not fitting in. If I couldn't even fit in _here_, I'm certain I will _never_ find where I truly belong.

Oh! And to make matters worse, my bum eye starts spazzing again.

At this point I had come attuned to the fact that it was triggered by that inner fire, that inner _Slytherin_, that was desperately waiting; yearning to unleash at any moment.

I half-mindedly rub my eye as I grit my teeth.

"You alright, Harry?" Ron asks.

"Maybe he's color blind," one of them taunts. "Your tie has _green_ in it, Potter. _Not_ red."

I spot Hermione who, despite being a Gryffindor herself, looks at her housemates in disgust. She snarls at them with an attitudinal hip jutted to the side.

"_Shut it_, Dean," she scolds. She gracefully makes her way toward me with her wand, not so gracefully, pointed directly between my eyes.

I instinctively hop back with both hands held above my shoulders. Based off the woman's intimidating repertoire of knowledge in wizardry, I had no clue what she was planning on doing next.

"Bloody hell Harry, hold still!" Hermione demands widening my eyes; the tip of her wand held directly between them. "_Oculus Reparo._"

A quick sound, something like a tree branch snapping, crackles from her wand as the jagged cracks in my lenses disappear.

My jaw drops as I remove the glasses from my face.

"Brilliant!" Ron interchangeably gawks at Hermione and my repaired spectacles.

I join in on Ron's rapid transitional line of vision.

"Thank you Hermione.. Thank you Ron, for everything," I mutter slowly backing away from the Gryffindors. "You've both been brilliant since we met.. but I don't belong at this table. The more I learn about myself, the more I believe that I truly am a.. I'm a-"

"A Slytherin." Malfoy approaches us with a discontent look on his face. He scoffs at Ron before saying, "My condolences to your tattered textbook, Weasley. How many generations did that one make it through? And your robes? Your knickers?"

I wince at the uncalled-for statement.

"Why so fussy, Malfoy?" Ron shoots back. "Lack of sleep; not having Daddy here to tuck you into bed last night?"

"What did you just say to me?" he growls through gritted teeth."You filthy_ peasant_."

"Stop it!" Hermione orders startling us. "The both of you!"

"Oh! Look who we have here." Malfoy's whole demeanor changes. The snarky, off putting façade remains.. well, snarky.. but there's a sudden addition of charm to his tone. "Granger; our _new_ muggle born. Isn't that right?"

"And who are _you_?" she challenges, maintaining a confident stance while looking down her nose at him.

"Draco Malfoy." He does a quick bow as a devilish smirk crosses his lips. The sleezeball grabs Hermione's hand while demanding eye contact from her. She skeptically peers at him as he plants a quick kiss on the back of her hand. "Pleasure's all mine. Father failed to mention how beautiful you are."

Hermione's cheeks pinken as she tears her hand from his. She scoffs with a slight look of noticeable intrigue.

"Honestly, Malfoy," I interject in annoyance. "What is _with_ your invasive knowledge of every single bloody person at this school?"

"Only the special ones," he cunningly replies keeping his eyes on her.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron threatens in slight.. jealousy? "Leave Hermione alone."

"My apologies Weasley; was never my intention to impede on your girlfriend."

Before Ron, who looks like he was about to backhand Malfoy, has the chance, the door slams open silencing everyone in the room.

A tall melancholy man with long black hair and a distinctive hooked nose rushes to the front of the room. He's dressed in black from head to toe with a cape-like robe that swirls in the air as he walks past.

I shake my head giving Ron and Hermione a silent apology for my housemate's rude gestures.

I shove Malfoy in the direction of our table who defiantly lashes an arm away from me. As I follow my moody roommate to our seats, I notice a pair of footsteps scurrying behind me.

"There will be no wand waving, or silly incantations in this class." The professor demands our attention. "You will all refer to me as Professor Snape."

Once seated, I throw my book bag on the table and notice from my peripheral that Hermione had trailed behind us and was now seated beside me. She gives a quick smile before focusing her attention to the front of the classroom.

My mouth twists failing to hold back a smile. I lean my face in the palm of my hand, my _right _hand, so as to not get distracted by the enchanting witch beside me.

"Those of you will succeed.." Professor Snape continues his rant as his eyes dart to Malfoy on the other side of me. "..who possess the predisposition."

Draco nods his head, with stern eye contact and a smirk of admiration, as if he and Snape had some sort of understanding.

"I can teach you how to _bottle fame, _brew glory, and even _put a stopper on death_."

My ears perk at the captivating line, and my thoughts begin to wander:

_If only I had learned in my infancy how to put a stopper on death and spare my biological parents._

_If only my fame wasn't derivative from essentially that same sentiment._

_If only they hadn't given life to someone who would someday become some sort of spawn of the very same entity who slaughtered them._

"And then, there are those who feel confident enough to _not pay attention_!" Snape's voice elevates a tremendous amount causing my neck to snap up at him.

His black eyes pierce through mine with the look of thorough hatred. He makes his way from his post in a rush toward me.

"Mr. Potter," he slickly remarks. "_Our new celebrity_."

I peer to the opposite side of the room breaking our mutual glare. My breathing accelerates and I can feel my heart pounding in my ears.

If I hear one more reference about my 'celebrity' or being 'famous' for getting my biological parents killed, I'll go mental.

The professor pelts me with questions regarding the course, using words I never knew existed. It's the first fucking class of the year, and he expects me to know what the bloody hell a bezoar is?

From the corner of my eye, I notice Hermione eagerly raising her hand in an attempt to answer each question thrown at me.

Snape ignores her, lowering his face to mine with a stoic expression. I notice that he looks more closely at my right eye.

"How unfortunate," he continues. "Clearly _fame isn't everything_."

My teeth are clenched and I'm seeing red.

"Or _clearly_, Hermione knows all of the bloody answers!" I seethe, rapidly gesturing to her. "So why don't you get off my arse and call on _her_ like professors are _supposed_ to do?"

The crowd gives a resounding gasp. Hermione promptly lowers her arm and I look to find her peering back at me in trepidation.

"How _dare_ you speak to me in such a way," Professor Snape lectures in an elongated manner.

I suddenly feel Hermione's hand on my thigh, and she squeezes it as some type of warning. I take another quick glance at her who's concernedly shaking her head.

I look to my left at my friend – I mean roommate -

Whatever the bloody hell he was; I haven't fully decided yet.

Anyways.. I look to my left, and I'm not surprised to find Malfoy staring in my direction like the rest of the class.

But what _does_ surprise me is how his eyes disapprovingly glare, almost in an envious manner, at Hermione's hand in my lap visible from beneath the table.

Malfoy narrows his eyes at me before turning back to his idolized teacher.

Aside from not having many people disagree with him to his face, I also have a good idea that the bloke was possessive; if Malfoy didn't get what he wanted, it wouldn't end well for those who _did,_ in fact, possess it.

I squeeze my eyes shut and deeply inhale while running a hand through my hair. I'd officially reached the level of irritation that my right eye was now burning, and I _had_ to get out of there before it's reptilian appearance made a debut.

"Have you _failed _to realize that I'm the Head of Slytherin?!" Professor Snape spits just inches from my face. "_Your _Head of House?!"

I brush Hermione's hand from my lap as I pack my things.

"10 points from Slytherin." My table groans as I clumsily throw my legs over the bench and stand to my feet. "You can thank your _new celebrity._"

I stumble over my feet as I turn my back to Snape and make a run for the door.

"And just _where _do you think you're going, Mr. Potter?"

"I think it's best if I left," I inform without looking back. "Enough _celebrity treatment_ for one day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Hey all! Been going through a lot lately, but I just wanted to say how much gratitude I have for my readers and supporters! So, thank you. :)**
> 
> **I'm also excited for you to read the upcoming chapter as it's one of my favorites.**
> 
> **Until next time! **


	7. The First-Year Initiation Celebration

I finally unwind after an understated overwhelming 24 hours here at Hogwarts.

I lay down on my bed on my back with Hedwig perched on my forearm. I stroke the back of my fingers against her soft feathers. My pet owl, named by Hagrid, cocks her head to the side examining me with curious eyes.

Even though I requested a snake and owned enough money to buy an entire zoo's worth, I ended up with a puffy snow-white bird.

But, I had admittedly grown rather fond of her.

She was my new enchanted emotional support animal of sorts; brilliantly beautiful and soothing, while doubling as a flying postman.

Malfoy enters our room with the most enthusiasm I'd seen out of him since we met. "Stop sulking and get off your arse, Potter." He nears my bed tying a pine green tie over his collared black shirt. "We have the first-year initiation celebration to attend."

I assume the 'initiation celebration' was wizard-speak for _'freshman frat party: Hogwarts style'_.

I roll my eyes at him simultaneously closing Hedwig's cage. "You already tormented and robbed me of my sleep last night," I grumble. "Wasn't that enough?"

Malfoy takes a seat on his bed across from me with a mischievous smirk. "If you wish to miss out on Granger dancing in a skin tight dress; suit yourself."

"Who's Granger?"

My roommate looks back at me as though I had just asked what equals two plus two.

"_Hermione_, you daft thing. The teacher's pet feeling you up in class earlier."

I shamelessly chuckle at the unexpected level of fierce directness in regards to Hermione. Trying to hide his jealousy with snarky remarks wasn't working on me either.

"Feeling me up?" I continue to laugh in his face. "Bloody hell Malfoy, I apologize for failing to remember the last name of the girl you fancy." I rise to my feet pulling a neatly folded dress shirt from my dresser before spinning back toward him. "Who_ is_ a Gryffindor, I might add."

"Shut up _Potter_," he lamely rebuttals. "Even worse, she's a _muggle born_; my kind doesn't settle for the like."

"Tell you what? I won't tell _your kind _who you fancy, then," I taunt. I slap him on the back just enough to leave a sting. "It'll just be another one of our _little secrets_."

* * *

Draco and I ascend through the towers, managing to make our way across the stairs which apparently move on their own bloody schedule.

It's completely silent throughout the castle and I'm pretty certain we're lost, but I decide not to question my temperamental roommate.

After wasting enough time simply waiting for the stairs to make up their damn mind, we ultimately reach a dead end.

We're faced with a large portrait of an overweight woman wearing what appeared to be a basket of fruit on her head.

Unlike the other lively portraits lining the walls, the fat lady is frozen in place with googly eyes that erratically inspect us.

"Why is she frozen like that?" I finally speak up. "Is that normal?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Potter." Malfoy effortlessly swishes his wand at the door she's guarding, opening it with ease. "It's a harmless spell to shut her up."

A heavy explosion of music emerges from within the mysterious corridor.

"_Hurry up_." He aggressively shoves me into the dark hallway behind the door before quickly shutting it.

We walk into an enlarged living area identical to our own dormitory. The only difference is it's decked out in scarlet versus green, lions versus snakes, and.. it's not located in the bloody dungeons.

I had been informally introduced to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Students from various houses and classes mingle with one another holding assorted drinks and dancing. The near deafening music bounces off the walls and the thud of the bass rattles my chest.

Like us, the rest of the students made the wise decision of ditching those _dreadful_ robes for the party.

Most of the blokes wear ties representing their house color, while the women wear colorful matching accessories to signify the same.

My eyes instantly target the familiar faces from across the room.

George has his arm around a Ravenclaw who's spinning tracks with her wand at a levitated DJ booth. Fred is doing magic tricks in the corner entertaining the newcomers. Ron is mid keg stand, with a squad of rowdy Gryffindor freshmen holding up both legs.

And Hermione..

Hermione's wearing, as promised by Malfoy, a skin tight white dress that perfectly complements her curves. A scarlet purse drapes over one of the sleeves to her dress that flowers over her shoulders. Her hair is in loose curls that reach past her chest and she's wearing light makeup.

I find myself dumbstruck at her provocative yet classy appearance.

As she nears, she waves directly at me - wait - maybe it was to Malfoy.

I promptly turn to him grasping his shoulder. "She's all yours, mate," I encourage with a firm head nod. He stares back at me pensively.

I didn't want to cock block my possessive roommate who clearly had his eyes on Hermione, despite his bullshit banter earlier.

So, I decide to go find Ron.

"And where do you think _you're_ going?" Malfoy calls after me. I pretend to not hear him over the thumping bass.

I join the group of blokes surrounding the keg as Ron is helped down by his mates. He lets out an elongated belch while pounding his chest like an ape.

"Ron!" I shout over the music and chatter encircling us.

"Hey, Harry!" He throws an arm over my shoulders facing me toward his gang. "This is Seamus," he introduces pointing to him. "Neville, Dean.." Ron proceeds to list off their names before adding, "And they wanted to apologize for being snarky little gits in potions earlier. Isn't that right, you bloody lot?"

"Right," they agree in unison.

My eyebrows raise in contentment, frankly inspired by the clear leader of the Gryffindor freshmen.

Ron's friends were loyal to him, and I wanted to reciprocate his loyalty to me, despite the degradation we were bound to receive.

I was a loner. I already knew that.

_But.._

I no longer lived in the muggle world.

If I could manage to become the 'leader of Slytherin freshmen' myself, a cross-house friendship would be something progressive for our opposing houses.

Plus, I fancied the idea of becoming a leader.

Being respected while slightly intimidated at the same time. Sounds fun.

However, there was one problem. I had the feelingthat there already _was_ a clear contender as commander of Slytherin.

And I happened to room with him.

* * *

I smirk while accepting Dean's hand shake as another bloke – Neville, I think it was? - tosses me a beer. We all cheers before shot gunning our brews. I hold the back of my palm flat against my lips struggling to swallow the remaining liquid down my throat.

After letting out quite the impressive belch myself, I pull Ron to the side.

"Speaking of earlier," I say letting out a sigh. "I wish it was just as easy to squeeze an apology out of.."

We peer across the crowd to Malfoy. He's standing in the middle of the dance floor socializing with a tribe of Slytherins.

And his eyes, understandably so, hadn't left Hermione.

"Don't waste your time, mate. It's _Malfoy _after all," Ron sneers. "Just be careful around him, Harry. His family is known for being.. well.. not very good. And you're one of the good ones."

Before we have the chance to continue our conversation, the music lowers and his brothers demand attention from the crowd.

"Alright you lot!" George hollers into his wand. He's accompanied by his twin on top of the levitated DJ booth. "It's time to play Spiffle!"

Everyone bursts into applause jumping up and down. The dance floor clears as the students disperse to the sidelines of the room.

"What's Spiffle?" I ask Ron.

Naturally being a competitive guy, I wanted to know how to play it, and I wanted to be _brilliant_ at it.

"It's _loads_ of fun. You hit the ball through one of four hoops. If the other team scores, you drink. Quite simple, really." He pats me on the back while pointing to each goal.

Ron recruits Seamus to join him on the opposing side of two Ravenclaws in our grade. "Watch and learn how it's done. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two."

Each team stands ground on the far ends of the room. I watch on in curiosity as a Hufflepuff approaches the stage. She whips her wand from her purse and makes her way to the center of the room.

Everyone is respectfully silent as if we were in the middle of a golf tournament waiting on her first swing.

"_Spifflo Hooplian_!" she powerfully yells, her wand directed at the basketball-sized hoops beneath her.

They immediately glow in different colors individually. One scarlet and gold, one green and silver, one blue and bronze, and one yellow and black representing the four houses.

Using her free arm as balance for the magic she was concocting, she raises the four hoops toward the ceiling with the help of her wand. They slowly begin to rotate around one another as the pace of their movement accelerates.

My mouth hangs open in awe closely watching the vibrant oscillating rings. Guiding my vision back to the floor, I notice each player is holding a mini plump baseball bat.

"Let the games begin!" the Hufflepuff shouts in excitement.

The students chatter and blaring music resumes to the same high level of volume as before.

I stand slack jawed, watching on in admiration as each side sends the golf sized ball soaring back and forth.

I'm playing such close attention I hadn't noticed Hermione's presence beside me. "Hello."

I jolt in place accidentally spilling a bit of beer on my shirt. "You have _got_ to stop following me around and popping up on me," I tease with a smirk.

Hermione cringes as her eyes dart back and forth. "Sorry. I just figured.. since, you know.. we're both new."

"No, no. I was only joking." I chuckle shaking my head. "I enjoy your company, Hermione."

I say the last sentence speculatively scouting Malfoy across the crowd. I can't find him, _but_ my eyes fall upon a woman that Fred was currently speaking to across the room.

A _gorgeous _one at that.

The busty girl with deep auburn hair is wearing a silky scarlet halter top. The blouse openly wraps around her mid-torso, highlighting her perfectly toned abs. Black jeans that fit her like spandex rise to her lower hips, and she's has on matching scarlet open toed high heels.

Based off her mature appearance and color of her outfit, I make an educated guess that she was an upperclassman Gryffindor.

Besides, I would have _definitely_ noticed the sexy witch if she was in Slytherin by now.

I'm instantly enthralled.

There was something about her. She appears bubbly and cheerful; laughing at every single joke Fred was presumably cracking.

_That bastard._

"Harry?" Hermione brings my line of vision back to her. I do one last double take before returning my attention.

"Some party huh?" I inwardly kick myself at the bland comment.

Was that _really _the best I could come up with?

I get a glimpse of her smile hidden against the brim of the cup held to her lip. Apparently she finds my awkwardness endearing.

Well at least that made one of us.

"You're quite the talk of town around town here," she notes with an arched brow.

"Don't remind me," I groan.

Hermione rolls her eyes with a smile. "Imagine the looks I'm getting as well," she empathizes. "I'm unsure whether being a muggle born is preferable for some."

I bite my tongue.

If only she had heard my roommate's snide remarks regarding '_her kind_' earlier.

Besides, who cares if she's a muggle born? A muggle born, who by the way, seems more experienced in magic than the lot who've been practicing their whole lives.

"Cheers." I tilt my plastic cup clinking hers against mine. "I don't mind being an outcast with you; being pureblood is bloody boring anyhow."

Hermione gives me a flashy smile lightly swaying back and forth. She wraps a relaxed arm around her torso while taking a sip from her cup with her other hand.

"_WATCH OUT!_" the crowd suddenly shouts.

Hermione screams at the top of her lungs as I turn to find the Spiffle ball hurling toward the left side of her head.

Without much thought, I lunge my right hand forward catching the ball in between my fingers just inches from her face.

The entire room falls silent before bursting into the loudest cheer of the night. I casually toss the ball back toward Fred and George who stare back at me with both mouths hung agape.

"Oh, _Harry_! Thank you," Hermione cries. She throws her arms around my neck. "That was brilliant! Saved my bloody life."

In the heat of the moment, she grabs my jaw line and plants her lips on my cheek.

Our lips _nearly_ touch.

The rambunctious students howl in response. I instinctively raise both hands in the air and break the half-lip-half-cheek kiss.

My cheeks flush as I rub the back of my neck. "Hermione, really, it was nothing."

The Weasleys come running toward us as the game comes to an abrupt halt. "Holy shit, that was brilliant!"

"How the bloody hell did you do that?!" Ron shouts in thorough dismay.

The spotlight was on me once more, yet this time around I didn't mind it so much.

I was quite enjoying it.

"I play lacrosse?" I offer shrugging my shoulders. "Fast reflexes I guess."

"Lacrosse?" George inquires.

Hermione turns to George, opening her mouth to answer him, before Fred hits him upside the head.

"Honestly, do you listen to a single word dad says? Lacrosse is the _muggle quidditch_, you twit."

George angrily rubs the back of his head before flicking his twin in the groin. They begin to wrestle each other, falling to the floor rolling back and forth.

Ron steps over his brothers unphased. "Quidditch tryouts begin tomorrow. You've _got _to try out, Harry. You'd be brilliant."

"You've _got _to," Hermione affirms with a reassuring smile. She wraps her arm in mine with an excited head nod.

I feel the excitement drain from my body as Malfoy storms through the crowd toward us with a pissed off look. "Well would you look at that, Potter?"

Crabapple and Gargoyle had made an unfortunate reappearance, waddling closely behind their master.

Malfoy stands with a confident widened stance and arms folded. "Looks as though you'll have competition for the seeker position."

"The what?" I casually unweave my arm from Hermione's, shoving both hands in my pockets.

I notice Malfoy tightly clench his jaw a few times as he eyes her. He wasn't eyeing her in the same manner as he was eye-fucking her previously. He looks thoroughly displeased.

"Good luck. The _seeker position_ hasn't been given to a first-year in over a century," Hermione states-matter-of-factly. She places both fists on her hips with an assured smirk.

Malfoy doesn't take kind to this.

"Is that right? And how would a _Mudblood_ such as yourself know that?"

Her cheery disposition drops into complete misery, Crabbe and Goyle snicker behind him uncontrollably, and the Weasleys angrily encircle Malfoy like a pack of wolves.

"_What _did you just say to her?" Ron aggressively bumps shoulders with him, gripping his wand in his back pocket.

Fred intervenes between Ron and Malfoy's intense stare down. He fans his hands up and down shaking his head at his brother. "He's not worth it, mate," he says to Ron as George slowly pulls him away.

I stand with my arms folding, watching the confrontation unfold as closely as I did the game of Spiffle. I wasn't sure what the bloody hell a Mudblood was, but I had the sneaking suspicion that it was nothing good.

Malfoy maintains a cocky stance with a pompous smile as he turns to his cackling daft groupies.

But his eyes, as they had been the whole night, stay glued to Hermione who dashes away from us.

"I'll catch up with you tomorrow," I mutter to Ron glaring at Malfoy.

I follow after her to get some answers. I race after her through the crowd as she approaches the girl's lavatory.

"Hermione wait!" The vigorous music drowns my voice out.

I chase after her as we venture further from the party. "Hermione!"

She finally hears me, stopping in place next to the vacant girls bathroom. She turns on her heels exposing lines of mascara trailing down her face. "Don't make this worse than it already is," she says in embarrassment.

"What're you talking about?" I place both hands on her shoulders. "Remember, I know just as little as – I mean- I know _much _less than you do in this world. I don't know what a-"

"A _Mudblood_ is a loathsome, _foul_ word to call a muggle born; someone like me." She sniffs back a few tears while straightening her posture.

"Right.. well, don't listen to him." I sigh. "I don't even know _why _I'm defending him, but the truth of the matter is; Malfoy fancies you."

Hermione scowls in disbelief.

"Or at the _very least, _he wants to shag you."

Her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling and an uncontrolled laugh escapes her lips at my unexpected comment. "Is that right?"

I smile back at her with a shrug as her face softens.

"Well you can tell _Malfoy _that I'm not interested."

My roommate had fucked up his shot and it was only the second day at Hogwarts. It was out of my hands now, and I truly cared for Hermione as a friend. She was talented, beautiful, and didn't have two buffoons trailing behind her at all times.

So I choose sides.

"Pleasure's all mine."


	8. The Morning of the Quidditch Tryouts

I successfully survived my first week here at Hogwarts University.

Outside of class I spent most of my time building a quality inner circle of friends. Hermione, Ron and I kept a tight bond as expected.

We balance each other out rather perfectly; Hermione is the brains of the operation, Ron's the social advocate, and I..

Well I was still figuring that part out.

Most of my discriminatory and prideful housemates were finally warming up to the idea of myself being in Slytherin.

_As if they had the choice._

And then there was Malfoy.

My roommate got under my skin more times than I wished to admit. And, I'll give it to him, he did his bloody best at upholding a callous image.

But I saw right through it.

Deep down Malfoy was a scared, misunderstood little bloke whose bark was bigger than his bite. There was an inner vulnerability behind closed doors that no one else saw, even including himself at times.

We make our way to the Main Hall for breakfast. We're both half asleep from the amount of studying we'd accomplished over the last few nights.

Today marked the first day of quidditch tryouts. It consisted of three tasks; a written exam, an analysis on taking proper flight, and a one versus one against an existing team member. The tryouts would measure our agility, athleticism, stamina, mental strength, and overall skill.

I would be trying out for the position that was similar enough to my role in lacrosse; the chaser. It was heavy on offensive plays along with the necessity to be speedy.

The written exam consisted of 50 multiple choice questions based off technicalities and the general history of the sport. Aside from studying with Malfoy, I'd endured multiple _endless_ lectures from Fred and George; both beaters on the Gryffindor quidditch team.

So, I was pretty up to speed on the basis of the sport.

But that didn't mean that I was feeling confident in any sense of the term.

Malfoy and I were competing for the same position with the underlying desire to be the Slytherin seeker. But the seeker position, as advised by Hermione, hadn't been given to a first-year in over a century.

My biological father, also advised by Hermione as she bloody knows _everything,_ was a chaser on the Gryffindor team during his time at Hogwarts.

Even though I never met my father, or knew he existed until a week ago, I wanted to prove him proud.

But it would take a profound leap of faith to believe that I inherited most.. if not _any_ of my father's traits.

I was admittedly working against the odds already. After all, I was placed in Slytherin; the paradoxical house to Gryffindor. Simply possessing the Potter name did _not_ signify that I resembled anything close to the man who gave me his famous last name.

Aside from being a master at pissing off my Potions professor, I exhibited minimal enchanting properties. The only predisposed quality that set me apart from the rest wasn't even _known_ by most; ultraviolet vision from my snakelike left eye that was triggered when I was upset.

So _what_?

In the wizarding world, that was hardly impressive.

The overall general lack of confidence in myself and the image I was expected to uphold was heavily working against me.

I'm irritable, sleep deprived, and anxious for this bloody written test. Hopefully a hearty breakfast will fuel my motivation for the rest of the day.

I repetitively blink against the invasive sunlight as we pace across the courtyard. I rub my eyes and let out a yawn, mirroring Malfoy's strides beside me to ensure that I'm walking a straight line.

Upon our arrival we're greeted by each table decked out in various baked goods and savory dishes. If there was one thing I knew I'd never get sick of at Hogwarts, it was the endless feasts.

We sit across from Crabbe and Goyle who had just finished fetching each of us a fresh cup of coffee. The pair was starting to grow on me. I didn't mind having two twits to do whatever I pleased at the snap of a finger.

Even though I had the selection of nearly every breakfast food you could imagine, I settle for a sole pile of bacon that I intricately stack on my plate.

I ritualistically peer across the room to seek out my friends at the Gryffindor table. My heart palpitates as my eyes fall upon the sexy mystery girl with auburn hair from the first-year initiation celebration. I hadn't seen her since that evening.

She coyly smiles at me making my cheeks burn. I'm pretty sure she started to wave at me, but I'm too busy giving myself whiplash while redirecting my line of vision elsewhere.

With my neck safely snapped in the other direction, I notice Ron and Hermione approaching the Slytherin table with two full trays of food.

I lean both elbows against the table and interlace my fingers. I rest my chin upon my hands as I watch my friends' nonchalant entry to the doom and gloom Slytherin zone.

I was welcome at the Gryffindor table, well, mainly by force.. but it was a rather prideful moment watching my friends shamelessly visit my segregationally charged table.

Crabbe and Goyle turn and glance at them while silently refusing to make room on the bench.

Malfoy narrows his eyes at the Gryffindors. I side eye him waiting for his next move.

"Crabbe. Goyle." He sways one hand between them before flicking his wrist in the other direction. "_Move_, you fat lubs_._"

I raise my eyebrows in surprise as they obediently scoot to their right making room for Ron and Hermione.

My housemates whisper among one another as predicted. As previously noted quite a few times, it wasn't common for the rival houses to befriend one another.

But I was putting an end to that stigma.

"Oi, Granger!" our housemate hollers from a few seats down. "I think you're lost. Shouldn't you be up front being an insufferable teacher's pet, sucking up to McGonagall?"

Malfoy and I simultaneously grip the table, leaning forward and peering down the row. "_Shut up_ Parkinson," he snaps quicker than I can.

I lightly wince, waiting for a stereotypical condescending remark to follow up the blatant defense of my mate.. who he had _just_ maliciously insulted last week?

Surprisingly, a snarky comment doesn't make an appearance.

I contently clear my throat while looking back to Ron and Hermione. I gesture for them to have a seat, but they're too distracted gaping at Malfoy as though a third eye had grown from his forehead. He lazily glances at me before nonchalantly taking a stab at a piece of pineapple.

Ron skeptically observes my roommate while throwing a leg over the bench. "And I thought _Malfoy_ was the biggest tosser in Slytherin."

Malfoy uncharacteristically chooses to forego the instigating comment.

Perhaps the bloke regretted the savage remark he had made to Hermione the week prior. I fancied the idea that I held a positive influence over my bigoted roommate.

But I wasn't going to hold my breath waiting on a full apology any time soon.

Hermione arches a brow at Malfoy before turning back to me. "Ron received the _Daily Prophet_ in the mail today." The perplexed expression on my face causes her to add, "It's the newspaper."

I wrinkle my chin as I peek over at the front page. Just like the portraits in the castle, the paper is riddled with life-like pictures that move and repeat in a boomerang effect.

"Someone broke into Gringott's," Ron informs. He fans the newspaper in his hand toward me while adding, "It's never been ransacked. If anyone other than a Gringott's goblin tried to open this specific vault, they would be trapped inside."

"For at least 10 years," Hermione adds. "Harry, Gringott's Bank is-"

"I know what it is." I lightly stroke my chin as I add, "Hagrid made a stop for Dumbledore when we were in Diagon Alley."

"Hagrid?" the Gryffindors say in unison.

"Wha? Yeh called me?" I nearly jump out of my skin as Hagrid's deep voice suddenly bellows from behind me.

Ron gingerly shakes his head folding the newspaper and hiding it beneath his armpit. "Nope. Good morning, Hagrid!" he greets with a phony smile.

I bend over the table and yank the paper from Ron's clutch who furrows his eyebrows at me. "Hagrid, did you hear about this?" I coolly direct the paper from over my shoulder feeling the behemoth grasp it from behind.

"Err.." After 30 seconds of silence I turn to find that he was holding the _Daily Prophet_ upside down. "I know some of these words, I do," he announces thoughtfully.

Malfoy chuckles to himself as I jab an elbow into the side of his ribs.

"No, Hagrid." I rub both hands over my face before fully turning my body toward him.

I find him unscrewing his flask while hesitantly looking to the row of professors who, luckily for him, weren't looking our direction. He hastily takes a pull from his flask before re-opening the newspaper.

I save my large, uneducated friend from further embarrassment and yank the _Daily Prophet_ back into my possession.

I near it to my nose reading aloud:

_Gringott's Break In: _

_The intrusion is believed to be the work of dark witches or wizards. The Gringott's goblins insist nothing was taken. The vault in question is number 713 which had in fact been emptied earlier that very same day._

"Ha!" Hagrid bellows. "Doesn' really matter, now do it? 'Cuz what they was tryin' teh swoop was already removed by yours truly!"

I look back to Hermione who impatiently motions her hand encouraging me to ask further.

"What exactly was inside that vault, Hagrid?"

His rosy cheeks deepen an extra shade of pink as his beady eyes ricochet back and forth. "How should I know?" he replies rather defensively.

"Because you said-"

"Don' know what yeh think yeh heard, Harry." Hagrid chuckles shaking his head. "Now, I'm off teh go get me some breakfast."

The wooden flooring vibrates as he wanders toward the front of the room. I shrug my shoulders at Ron and Hermione who peer back at me in universal intrigue.

"Bumbling oaf," Malfoy reiterates. I jab my elbow once more causing him to aggressively shove me to the side. "Keep your grubby paws _off me_, Potter."

"Then stop being such a fucking dick," I shoot back.

"_Oh, stop it_ you two." Hermione readjusts in her seat while intertwining her fingers against the table. "Besides. You'll need your focus today, Harry."

"Phase one of the quidditch tryouts starts in one hour," Ron adds. He excitedly nods his head as he leans forward in his seat. "Think you're ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Even though I'd been on the brink of a panic attack all morning, I had also been itching to prove myself here at Hogwarts University.

And I'd be lying if the attention that I received at the party last week was unwelcome.

Catching the Spiffle ball with such ease felt bloody brilliant. But the recognition that came with it was equally exhilarating.

_Harry Potter, the 'Boy Who Lived': The star player of the Slytherin quidditch team. _

That had a nice ring to it.

If there was one thing I knew I'd be good at in following up my defaulted reputation, it was sports.

Plus, the girls tended to fancy athletes.

Hopefully the mystery red head had a liking herself.


	9. A Nightmare of a Memory

_It's the final lacrosse game of the year and we're tied for the win._

_Everything resides on this last play._

_My eyes lock on the midfielder of the opposing team rushing toward me as the rubber ball comes soaring my way. I inch closer and position myself at the perfect angle. I hold my breath as it nears, my grip tightening on the lacrosse stick. _

_I was going to sink this one without a doubt._

_A powerful force unexpectedly shoves me from behind. I'm sent face first into the ground and my mouth and helmet fills with grass and dirt. The muffled whistle of the referee rings through my ears as I yank the helmet from my head. _

_I turn my neck to find my teammate, Sean, towering over me from behind with an evil grin beaming through his helmet._

_"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?!" I shout throwing my helmet to the side. "I WOULD HAVE CAUGHT THAT!" _

"_Consider this a favor; I prevented the embarrassment of yet another failed catch," Sean pesters. "You'll never go professional with that deformity of yours. Just give up already."_

_Four years of being bullied by this wanker, on and off the field, and I finally had had enough. He was twice my size.. but from what I had experienced, my anger provided a unique ability to morph into someone, something else._

_I black out charging the lower half of his body. My adrenaline ignites as I rip the helmet from his fat head and repeatedly swing my fists at him left and right. _

_As he fights me onto my side, we roll off the field and down a hill engulfed in 12-inch grass._

_The impulsive fight with the massive bloke instantly knocks the wind out of me. Though he was clearly winning the fight, he mounts me; continuing to sucker punch me over and over. _

_"FIGHT BACK!" he taunts grasping the front of my jersey and pulling my back from the ground._

_Everything is spinning and I'm certain if I take one more blow to the head I'll knock out. My fingertips dig into the dirt as he winds back his fist ready to throw one last power punch. _

_My eyes widen as I relentlessly cough and gag off a healthy dose of grass, dirt, sweat and blood. _

_Sean suddenly freezes in place; his black eyes peering into mine, his fist still cocked back. "What the fuck," he mutters as the tightening of his grip on my jersey alleviates. "What's your eye doing?"_

_I viciously blink in an attempt to push the bodily fluids from my eyes. Beginning to feel a bit of strength restored, I fearlessly match his gaze and spit in his direction. _

_I didn't know that it was possible to get punched so hard that you could lose the ability to see color.. but I suddenly can only see in black and white from out of my left eye. _

_A heavy rustling of the grass next to us distracts Sean who fully releases me from his grasp. "What're.. what're you doing?" There's a sudden hint of fear in his tone as he exchanges glances between myself and the weeds. "What're you bloody muttering?!"_

_My head lethargically hangs to the side with my eyes steadfast on the shaking shrubbery. My lips move, but I don't pay attention to what's coming out of them. _

_I'm in an entranced daze while holding intense focus on the bushes beside us._

_"Harry, what are you.. what're you- AHH!" _

_After hoisting myself up I find Sean scooting his body away from me as fast as he can, stumbling on all fours. I rub my bum eye in an attempt to make sure that I was properly perceiving the scene in front of me. _

_The lack of ability to see color in my left eye had transitioned to a new phase; some sort of ultraviolet vision._

_Either way, black and white or ultraviolet vision, I'm certain that the numerous blows to my head were causing hallucinations. Because If I didn't know any better, a fucking 6-foot-long diamondback rattlesnake had just slithered past my feet on a relentless mission toward Sean._

_Its upper body towers over him; rigid as a board. Based off what I'd seen on television, this snake had cornered its prey and was about to strike._

_"S-stop man, please.. Harry, I'm-I'm begging you."_

_My lips continue to move, my eyes widened, my breath hitched in my throat._

_The snake turns its body toward me while its tongue rapidly flickers in my direction. _

_I'm oddly at ease. _

_I hold stern eye contact with the serpent that has warm green and brown toned scales shimmering against the sunlight. Its body sways back and forth in a small dance. It's hypnotic movements gives the impression that it's contemplating something.. _

_Pausing._

_"Harry," Sean pleads. "Please. Don't make it hurt me." _

_But I don't listen. I feel powerful; in control._

_There was no stopping this exhilarating feeling. _

_I mutter something to the snake that I still can barely make out myself. But the serpent clearly understood what I was instructing while contently listening.._

_Obeying._

_The gargantuan reptile keeps its line of vision directed at me as I slowly nod my head._

_Faster than the speed of light, the rattlesnake attacks him; sinking it's fangs into his left cheek. His screams can presumably be heard from across the field._

_With one more head nod the snake strikes again, missing his eye this time by centimeters._

_Our coach makes an appearance charging toward us. "God dammit! What the hell is going- OH MY GOD! Call an ambulance!" he shouts kneeling beside Sean._

_"Get him away from me!" Sean screams, kicking his feet toward me. "Fucking freak!"_

_My lips twist as I fail to withhold a sinister grin. _

_Blood continues to pour from my teammate's face. The chaos surrounding us gives the serpent the perfect opportunity to slither away unnoticed._

_But it hadn't left my sight for one moment._

_It camouflages amongst the lengthy grass until it's no longer in view._

_Our goalie throws his equipment on the ground next to me. "Harry, what the bloody hell just happened?!" I accept my teammate's offer to help me up, grasping onto his arm and putting myself back on my feet._

I'm coming to; confused, drained.. _vindicated_.

"Potter."

I toss on my side gliding a hand over my sweaty face.

"_Potter._"

I groan as I lash on my other side pulling the covers up to my chin.

"_Bloody hell_ Potter, get your arse _up._"

My eyes flicker open to find a bloke standing over my bed with icy blonde hair and grey eyes. He holds a wand directed at me which abruptly yanks the blankets from my shoulders to my ankles.

It takes a moment to recognize him or remember where I was.

"Malfoy," I note absent mindedly.

My roommate narrows his eyes at me as he tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms. "Did someone have a bad dream?" he taunts with a smirk.

_Bad dream_.

More like a nightmare of a memory.

I honestly hadn't remembered the details of that day; the day where my teammate ended up attacked by a diamondback, and the day that ultimately got my scholarship revoked from UCL.

_Surely_ the memory was distorted and out of context like most dreams.. there was simply no _way_ that I single handedly controlled the vicious attack..

_Controlled_ the snake.

That's a load of rubbish.

Reptiles of that size are dangerous creatures and Sean simply ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At least, that's what I kept reassuring myself.

"Get _up _you pansy," Malfoy orders. "Unless, of course, you wish to forego the tryouts today. I'm content with it either way, really."

"Doesn't seem that way with you yapping in my ear," I complain throwing my legs over my bed.

He rolls his eyes at me before turning to his full-length mirror in the corner of our room. I watch him throw the black and green cape-like quidditch robes around his shoulders.

After feeding Hedwig I roll out of bed.

I'm trapped inside my head regarding the memory - I mean nightmare. I try to calm myself with the notion that a stressful dream during this time, especially related to sports, was plausible.

On the positive, I had passed the first phase of the quidditch tryouts with flying colors. _And _I was one of the first to finish the written exam.

But today would be measuring in my personal opinion the most important of skills.

Taking flight.

The Slytherin quidditch team wouldn't just be measuring our ability to get up in the air. The test would be indicative of balance, speed, and most importantly; accuracy.

After I finish throwing on the tryouts uniform, Malfoy and I make our way across the field. I sluggishly drag my feet alongside my roommate who has much more of a pep in his step than me.

It's 7 A.M. on a Saturday and the sun is still in the process of rising.

We find the line of chaser candidates and take our place. I balance the bushy tail end of the broomstick against the grass leaning my weight against it.

We'd been waiting for over 30 minutes and I resent the fact that I could have slept in longer.

From a distance I make out a woman strutting toward us. Her black robes hypnotically gallop in the wind behind her. She's wearing a velvety scarlet dress underneath that ties around her neck. A large pair of matching sunglasses neatly tuck the auburn hair behind her ears.

My brain finally registers what my eyeballs were consuming before me. It was the mystery redhead from the party; the one who fancied teasing me from afar at Main Hall meetings.

Her persona is _entirely_ different with a hardened facade and intense expression.

"Oi, you lot!" she shouts demanding the crowd. "I'm Ginny; Gryffindor team captain. I will be taking place for Marcus, Slytherin's team captain, who's fallen terribly ill." With a quick flash of a smirk she adds, "How unfortunate.."

My jaw hits the floor.

_The Gryffindor quidditch team captain?!_

I have to lodge my fist beneath my chin against the broom to prevent my mouth from involuntarily opening again.

"Congratulations on making it to the second phase. Today I'll be judging you, along with the rest of the Slytherin team, on a very strict set of qualifications."

Naturally, everyone in Slytherin universally bitches and moans. Knowing that their fate rested in the hands of a Gryffindor didn't settle well.

The mystery redhead - I mean Ginny - puts her arms behind her head tying her hair into a ponytail. She pauses for a moment visually sizing up the group before her. Her eyes jump from each row of applicants. From the keepers, to the beaters, to..

The visible inspection delays on my row of chaser candidates. I'm approximately the 8th person back yet her eyes choose _me_.

"You." She effortlessly points a nail polish chipped finger at me. "Come here."

My head rotates between the hopeful men and women on either side of me before making my way to the front.

With an impassive expression, she looks me up and down. "Your name?"

"Harry.. Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter," she repeats matter-of-factly with pursed lips. I struggle swallowing as all of the saliva from my mouth had conveniently depleted. "Stand over there," she commands directing another pointed finger toward a barren location on the field.

I compliantly nod my head and confidently stride to the instructed destination. I'm like a giddy school boy who had just been chosen first by the prettiest girl in school to join their kickball team.

The Slytherin quidditch team, minus the captain, appears on the field beside her and disperse to their corresponding row of applicants.

One player in particular singles himself out and stands on the side from the group. He is the only one on the team who's fully dressed in gear. He holds an enticing, sleek jet-black broom. I glance to my raggedy training broom while tossing it back and forth between my hands.

If I make the team, the first thing I'm doing is buying myself one of those wicked devices.

I'm too far out of earshot to hear what Ginny instructs the rest of the crowd, but I watch on as the three groups distribute well across the field from me.

Once they're situated she makes her way toward me.

I straighten my posture and smooth my hair in place. Cupping a hand in front of my mouth, I check my breath.

"Potter, huh?" Ginny's arms are crossed and the expression of fierce skepticism remains.

"Yeah."

"You've passed the second phase," she states dryly with a straight face. "Congratulations."

"_Passed the second phase? _But this must be some sort of mistake." I fidget with my fingers as my eyes dart from side to side. "How will I be able to make the team if I haven't learned how to fly yet?!"

"Not with that attitude."

I gulp shaking my head. The beautiful bombshell was downright crazy. Sure, my father may be legendary, but who's to say that had _any _effect on my ability to fly?

"The first-year initiation celebration; that was an impressive catch saving your girlfriend from the Spiffle ball."

"You noticed?" I question with a dumb smile. "I wasn't sure if you saw."

Ginny perches her hip to the side, smacking her lips together. "What, were you watching me at the party or something?"

"Erm, not really," I lie while shaking my head. "But apparently you were."

An amused smirk crosses her lips. Apparently our feisty dispositions were at par. "And Hermione's not my girlfriend," I add.

"I'm only joking, of course." She giggles as her eyebrows lower. "Don't think my little brother would take very kind to that, now would he?"

"Your.. brother?" My voice fades as two and two slowly comes together. Even though he hadn't admitted it, I could tell that Ron fancied Hermione.

"Let's get on with it then." She ignores my comment while swishing her hair to one side of her shoulders. "We won't be able to test your ability as the new seeker on the ground."

"The new seeker?!" I accidentally shout. "Bloody _hell_."

My eyes widen as she calls over the lone Slytherin team member in full gear.

"This is Terrence." The massive athlete shakes my hand with an agitated look on his face. "Whoever catches the snitch will either take or keep the coveted position."

I continue to panic burying my face in my hands. My heart is in my throat beating a million miles a minute.

Ginny forcefully exhales before pulling me to the side. "Tell ya what." She tilts her head to the side removing her sunglasses. Her newly revealed chocolate colored eyes demand mine.

"You catch the snitch, and get this wanker off the Slytherin team. Then you and my brother can celebrate."

"Your brother?" I repeat once more. "You're Ron's sister? And Fred, and-"

"George, yes," she cuts me off with raised eyebrows.

I roll my eyes at myself. Why hadn't I seen it before? She has the same infamous 'Weasley toned' red hair for fucks sake.

We're interrupted by Terrence clearing his throat from behind her. He mounts his broom immediately launching from the ground, reaching several feet above us in seconds.

"Can we get on with it, then?!" he hollers while effortlessly circling above us. "The kids a rookie. It'll take me 30 seconds to beat him, coach."

Ginny arches a brow lowering her sunglasses. "30 seconds faster than in bed, Terrence_.. impressive_."

I wince at the savage comment placing both hands on my broom. Who knew what comments or threats the assertive redhead would throw my way if I didn't get out of her face and up in the air STAT.

I don't waste another moment. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before kicking off from the ground.


	10. Me vs The Slytherin Seeker

My feet slowly depart from the grass, dangling above the ground. The slippery hands from beneath my gloves eventually retain proper grip. 

I mirror Terrence’s actions and gently lean forward on the front of my broomstick. Some sort of magnetic force instantaneously surrounds me as I ascend. At this point I'm about 10 feet in the air and have little to no control over the balance of my broom.

Ginny giggles in wicked amusement beneath me but I don't look down at her. Because if I do, I'll lose complete balance and fall straight on my arse. 

I lean on my right side and gradually move in a cyclonic motion. I apply more pressure against the head of the broom until I'm about 30 feet above the ground. Feeling a lick of confidence, I expediently speed toward Terrence and carefully maneuverer my way directly in front of him. 

"May the best _boy_ win!" Ginny shouts from below.

My grip tightens as I peer down at her. A gust rushes past me sending my shaggy hair in the wind. I watch as Ginny informally removes the golden snitch from her robes. With the simple flattening of her palm, a pair of wings spread out attached to the shiny metallic ball. 

The snitch darts off faster than the speed of light and I instantly lose sight of the bloody thing. Terrence’s broom launches in the other direction leaving a sonic boom in its trail.

My strategy was simple. I was to tailgate the Slytherin seeker as long as possible until I hopefully gained track of the spastic snitch. 

I successfully keep a close distance behind Terrence until he suddenly nose dives. My stomach drops as I lean against the broom with great force spiraling toward the ground. I hold the stick against my chest as my hands fight to retain proper grip. I'm having immense trouble commanding the wavering broom between my fingers and I’m getting frustrated.

Terrence was clearly trying to lose me, and was succeeding, but now was _not_ the time to give up. 

I gain traction weaving between a field of trees. A lone hidden branch suddenly snags the bottom of my robes and pulls me back like a loaded slingshot. I let out a grunt using all of my energy to yank myself in the opposite direction.

The students below resoundingly gasp as I fight to gain control. 

Terrence hovers above me snickering. "Well would you look at that, Potter? Looks like the apple fell _very far_ from the tree.. pun intended."

“Brilliant diss, you git,” I grumble.

He cackles as another thunderous boom emits from his broom taking off in the other direction. I'm livid, sweating bullets and violently cussing out my surroundings. 

Right on schedule my right eye begins to cloud and burn.

I'm desperately fighting to keep my cool. Not only am I one billion feet in the air stuck in a bloody tree with the potential to fall to my death.. but if I had _any _shot at winning this, I knew I had to stay calm and focused.

Unfortunately, my rogue eye had the tendency to restrict me from either option.

I use one leg to kick off from the branch. My arms are shaking and my tryouts uniform is soaked in sweat. I shimmy my shoulders back and forth using every ounce of strength before I'm finally let free. 

The vision from my right eye is transitioning out of control but I'm able to make out Terrence’s silhouette from afar. I follow him through another batch of trees, up another 20 feet, then down another 30. We skim over the grass headed straight for a tunnel through one of the towers.

The natural sunlight diminishes entering the passageway. The further we travel inside, the darker it gets. At this point I'm strictly relying on the sound of Terrence’s broom as it's nearly pitch black. 

I suddenly have a light bulb moment in remembrance of my first night in the Slytherin Common Room. It was the first time I noticed an additional abnormality in regards to my bum eye. 

Holding the broom with one hand, I cover my left eye with the other. I'm relieved to find that not only can I see better, but I can see _everything_ in the dark_. _

I silently lurk beside Terrence. He halts in place, hesitating whether to venture any further into the darkness. As I observe my surroundings I notice that there was no other side opening to the tunnel.. it was just a barricaded dead end.

We both pause in complete silence waiting for any indication from the snitch. A trickle of murky water drips on our heads as we linger.

The fluttering sound of a loud bumble bee suddenly buzzes past my ear. I turn my head to find the hovering, ultraviolet snitch taunting me. It moves in slow circular motions, darts to one side, and then to the other. It continues to provoke me in a come-hither motion and I'm really starting to lose my patience.

I lunge my body towards it with an arm sloppily swinging in its general area. In an expected defiant response, the snitch darts off in the opposite direction. Terrence bolts past me as I make a sharp turn initiating another rat race. 

We approach the entrance to the tunnel as more light is let in. The closer we near the passageway, the greater leverage he gained over me. I no longer held a hidden advantage over my component.

The blaring whistle of the snitch leads us toward the natural light and I know my time is limited. Whether it was my level of exhaustion, trepidation, or general lack of skill; I'm losing momentum and falling behind substantially.

I somberly watch on as Terrence and the snitch exit the passageway, shooting upward into the sky. 

I abruptly recline my positioning and bring myself to a standstill. I knew at this point that he was going to win, and it wasn't worth the shame of being beat in front of the whole crowd in the daylight. 

_Or_ that feisty redhead.

I’d rather sit here and hide out, hovering in the middle of the pitch-black tunnel, occasionally swallowing the growing lump in my throat.

I had let everyone down who believed in me. Ron, Fred, George.. 

My_ father_.

I'm consumed in self-loathing thoughts as the familiar ear-piercing buzzing returns. The snitch re-enters the tunnel hurtling past me. I watch Terrence approach the passageway for round two. 

I had been given a second chance.

I give one last yank redirecting myself toward the bountiful darkness and sprint toward the glowing snitch. Terrence falls noticeably further behind repressing his speed as we reach the dead end to the tunnel.

I close my left eye approaching the barricade before me. I lean all of my body weight toward the front of the stick reaching top speed. The snitch does a quick U-turn from the wall on its mission to bypass me once again.

I lunge for it, losing total balance, before I'm launched from my broom. My body crashes against the wall followed by the broom.

I lethargically roll to the ground. 

I'm in severe pain from head to toe and I’m having trouble breathing. I groan, rolling on my back in a filthy puddle beside the mangled broom. I have _no_ idea how many bones I just broke or how long it was going to take me to recover.

All I know is I'm seriously injured and my entire body is in shock.

The _only_ sensation I have left is the golf ball sized, vibrating metallic snitch gripped tightly between my fingers.


	11. The Stairway to Hell

**Later That Night**

I've been in the hospital wing all day.

Shortly after waking up from being knocked unconscious, one of the nurses explained that I suffered an accident during the quidditch tryouts. Recklessly reaching top speed on a broom and ultimately catapulting myself into a barricade wasn't my most brilliant hour.

I suffered a serious concussion and sprained my arm. Considering the velocity of speed I was going, it's a miracle that I wasn't hurt much worse.

I only remember just a snip of the accident due to the bloody concussion. But on the bright side, I was informed that I succeeded in catching the aggravating golden snitch.

The unpredictable Gryffindor team captain could treat this in one of two ways. She could recognize the accident as an example of my tenacity and yearning to be on the team. On the other hand, I could be viewed as not the most graceful candidate after squashing myself like a bug against a windshield.

The sound of heels stomping across the marble floor echoes throughout the hospital wing. Ginny speed walks into the entrance and immediately approaches one of the nurses.

"_Speak of the bloody devil_," I mutter to myself. I rub my throbbing temples while lazily watching on from afar.

Ginny rushes to my side once she finishes speaking with the nurse. She's wearing a studded leather jacket, black skinny jeans and matching boots. Folding her arms, she paces back and forth before standing in the corner adjacent to me. The authoritarian facade was no longer existent and she looks distressed.

"Are you alright?"

"Never better," I grumble with a smirk.

"I came as soon as I could." She takes a seat at the foot of my bed and crosses her legs. "I had to finish the tryouts, but it was difficult to pay attention after sending someone to the hospital."

I sit there in silence. Frankly, the redhead's concern over my wellbeing throws me off.

"I apologize for being so hard on you. But it was only because I saw the potential in you, and-"

"Stop, stop, stop." I cut her off, holding a hand up as I sit up. "Who are you, and what did you do with that bossy, rather bitchy redhead from earlier?"

Her cheeks exude a rose coloring as she fights back a smile. She narrows her eyes leaning closer. "Is that _really_ how you wish to speak to the person who got you on the Slytherin quidditch team?"

"Does that mean..?"

Ginny nods her head unleashing a repressed smile. "Congratulations, Harry; Slytherin's new seeker."

"Brilliant!" I shout instantly growing light headed. My head pounds as I recline to the pillows.

"Don't get too excited," she advises arching an eyebrow. "That's not for at least another two weeks."

"_What_? What about the introductory course? Why another _two _weeks?"

She lightly smacks the bottom of the sling holding my arm. I cry out in pain as she leans back folding her arms in amusement. "Does that answer your question?"

I wince blowing heavily through my mouth. "_Yes_. And welcome back, rather bitchy redhead."

Ginny gives a sarcastic 'ha ha' while opening her purse. "Here." She hands over a tiny vial of potion. "Pain killer. It's a bit stronger than what they have around here," she adds with a wink.

A dumb crooked smile crosses my face as I place the fuchsia colored potion in the drawer next to me. "Thanks."

"It's no problem," she replies buttoning her purse shut. "I make them all the time."

"No, not for that."

She stops fidgeting with her bag and slowly looks up to me. I rotate my head on the pillow so I'm fully facing her. "Thanks for believing in me."

Ginny promptly shakes her head and raises her hands. "_You_ are the one that caught the snitch. I had no doing."

I roll my eyes at the words that were about to come out of my mouth. "But if.. if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have pushed myself to the extent that I did."

"And if it weren't for _me_, you wouldn't be sitting in this janky hospital bed," she snorts rolling her eyes.

"I mean it, Ginny." I demand her eyes as the smile fades from her lips. "I've been sheltered my _entire_ life by my adoptive parents; treated as a nuisance rather than as a son. They never attended a single one of my lacrosse games," I share in a rare moment of vulnerability. "You trusted my abilities, something my parents never did, and I _did it. _If my biological father was still around, I think I would have made him proud."

There's a pause of silence as she breaks our gaze. My stomach churns. Maybe I had shared too much.

Ginny stares at the ceiling blinking rapidly. She looks back to me, her eyes glistening, as she reaches over and covers the back of my hand with hers.

"You _are_ proving your father proud," she states firmly. "And your adoptive parents sound dreadfully boring; it would be a shame not to get to know someone such as yourself." Her cheeks flush as she quickly adds, "At least, from what I've seen."

My mouth twists into a smile. "I'd like to show you more."

A couple pairs of feet enter the room from behind at a running pace. "Harry?" Hermione calls.

Ginny swiftly removes her hand from mine and casually fits her fist beneath her chin. But based off the look on Hermione's face, it wasn't swift enough.

"Sorry. Was I.. interrupting something?" Hermione hesitates.

There's an awkward pause in the room. I lean forward and see Ron standing beside her.

"Ginny." Ron walks past Hermione on our way to us. "What're you doing here?"

"Hi little brother," she chirps. "Was just leaving." After shooting me a quick wink and unleashing a batch of butterflies in my stomach, Ginny stands to her feet and grabs her purse.

Ron passes his sister and takes her place on my bed. "Are you alright there, Harry?"

"Fine, thanks." I shift in the bed so I'm in a more upright position. "Of course, you would have known that had you come to visit earlier," I add with a disappointed finger wave.

"Better late than never," he replies with a casual shrug.

"Rest up, Potter." Ginny rotates on her heeled boots and struts toward the exit. "I'll see you on the field."

"See you on the field?" Ron repeats, his lower lip hanging low. "Did you make the team, then?"

I cheerfully nod my head while Malfoy catches my attention from the doorway. He makes it a point to ignore Ginny in passing. He slowly walks toward us with both hands in his pockets. His eyes transition between the two Gryffindors, his gaze lingering on Hermione.

He wordlessly passes them before focusing on me. "You look like rubbish, Potter."

"Thanks mate."

Ron lets out an annoyed sigh crossing his arms. "What're _you _doing here, Malfoy?"

"I could ask you the same question, _Weasley_."

"Hmm let's see.." Ron taps his chin looking toward the ceiling. "Oh, I know! Maybe because Harry's my _friend_, you twit."

I roll my eyes while rubbing my temples. It wasn't easy having two of my best mates in the school loathe each other.

"Off to bed, students." An elderly female nurse enters the room in perfect timing. "It's time for Mr. Potter to get some rest. Mr. Malfoy, please assist him back to the dormitories as instructed. Now, off you go." The nurse helps put some sort of bath robe around my shoulders to cover me up.

"I'm _fine_.. really," I insist. I get a loathsome head rush from standing too quick and fall back on my arse on the bed. Hanging my head in my hands, I let out a defeated groan.

"_Get up_, you lazy oaf." My 'sympathetic' roommate hooks one arm around my uninjured one, helping me to my feet.

We make our way toward the exit. Ron assists him, putting a stable hand on my back from the other side. There's a rare moment of silence between them.

It's almost _more _uncomfortable having the two not at each other's throats.

Hermione leads the way holding my bag full of quidditch gear and dirty clothes. She guides us toward the first set of stairs. Thankfully, it would only require one layover trip between the unreliable stairwells to reach the Slytherin Common Room.

On the route to our next destination, the second staircase suddenly changes its direction and comes to an abrupt halt. The four of us lose our balance as we're violently shoved to the left. I grasp onto the railing for dear life. My head is spinning and I'm getting sick to my stomach.

After standing there for nearly 5 minutes in a tense silence, Malfoy takes a seat on one of the steps facing us. "Of _course_ I'm stuck on the _one_ defective staircase in the bloody castle with a Weasley," he scoffs.

"_Piss off_," Ron sneers. He storms up the stairs passing him.

"_Ron_," Hermione calls after him in a threatening tone. "Just _where_ do you think you're going?"

"Away from him!"

I groan taking a seat next to Malfoy. I replay the mental image of leaning over the banister and puking my brains out. We're easily a few stories up, and that would be a terrible surprise to those beneath us. Luckily, most of the students appeared to already be in their dorms.

Hermione ascends the stairs stomping her feet in aggravation as she nears Ron at the top. "This is the _third floor. _It's _forbidden_," she reprimands.

"Forbidden, is it?" Malfoy's eyes flash with mischief.

"Don't do it," I warn. Of course, he doesn't listen to me.

He pats me on the back before starting his mission to the top. I moan in severe annoyance and rise to my feet. I then lazily follow his footsteps with my head down.

It didn't seem as though the stairs had any intention of moving any time soon anyway.

Once I step off the top step and on to the ledge, the disobedient flight of stairs promptly moves to the correct destination.

"You've _got _to be yanking me."

* * *

Ron opens a lone door and we file inside one by one. We enter an ominous, cave-like room. It's littered with cob webs attached to creepy statues dispersed throughout. A row of pillars lining the walls light on fire as we walk past.

My adrenaline kicks in and I lose all symptoms from the accident. My fight or flight instincts are on high alert. It feels as if we're being watched. We speed walk across the pavement until we're ultimately faced with a dead end.

"Well, that was fun." Ron's eyes are wide observing a humongous spider web. "Best get going back now.."

I join Malfoy who had wandered off to a shadowy corner. He yanks a locked door as the padlock slams to and fro.

The conspicuous rusty stairwell creaks signaling its arrival to the third floor again. Prominent footsteps ricochet off the cobblestone walls.

Whoever it was, they were getting close. _Very _close.

"_We have to hide_!" I hiss.

We burst into a panic as Ron tries to open the locked door once more. Malfoy heavily shoves him to the side giving another useless tug.

"Oh move _over_!" Hermione demands aggressively cramming herself between them. She whips out her wand and nears the tip to the door. "_Aloe Hamora._"

The lock instantly detaches as the door creaks open. The three of us delay in astonishment. It never got old watching the heavily resourceful witch work her magic.

"Let's _go_!" She assertively shoves Ron, followed by Malfoy, into the conveniently located hiding spot. I'm spared of the physical assault due to my injury.

"_Aloe Hamora_; and when did you learn _that one_, bloody know-it-all?" Ron taunts while closing the door behind me.

Hermione folds her arms with eyebrows lowered. "When you weren't paying attention in Charms, clearly."

"Would you look at that?" Malfoy chimes in with a smug smirk. "Weasley's terrible at Charms just as much as he is quidditch. Couldn't even make the bloody team that his sister's the captain of. _Pathetic._"

"_Don't _bring my sister into this," Ron threatens. "Just because your father _bought your way _into the Slytherin team doesn't mean shit."

"At least my family can afford a broomstick."

"At least my family actually _cares for me_ and doesn't buy my love."

"_Ronald_," Hermione fumes.

Malfoy furiously mutters something under his breath while taking a step away from us. He casually smoothes the sleeves of his jacket as he gathers himself. Although he tried to appear as though the harsh words didn't hurt him, his body language was saying much different.

I could relate to Malfoy. My adoptive parents tried to gain my respect through monetary purposes, but it never fulfilled the gaping hole in my heart; the lack of unconditional parental love.

I would stand up for the bloke if I wasn't suddenly overwhelmed in critical fear.

I point my finger up as the three turn to me. "Em.. guys?" Their mouths hang agape while peering above us.

We're standing beneath an easily four story, _three headed _dog that towers over us. It's sleek black with short haired fur, and its fangs are probably the same height as me. Each of its heads connect at the base of its neck and they shared the same four legs.

We scream and holler in unison bolting toward the exit. The massive monster begins to take shots at us, each head taking turns chomping in our direction. The deafening, guttural growl shakes the walls. Copious amounts of saliva hanging from the creatures mouths drips all over us.

Ron's first to the door and breaks it open. Being the clumsy bloke that he is, he trips over himself and face plants onto the ground. Malfoy has his arm around Hermione and escorts her before himself out of the room.

"Ron, get up!" Hermione shouts. I look behind to find him still on the ground. I don't know whether he was stunned frozen or injured, but he's not moving. There's a thunderous jingle of metal chains restricting the beast from within the dungeon.

The three-headed dog was on a mission to make Ron its late-night snack. It makes another attempt to strike, this time almost reaching his shoes.

Without another thought, I lunge forward and grasp the back of Ron's shirt with my free arm. I yank him just _inches _from the furthest distance the monster could extend its neck. I lose my balance falling to the ground behind him.

We both squirm backwards on all fours.. well, all _three_ for me. I hold my injured arm close to my chest relying heavily on my other to safely guide myself out of harm's way.

Ron and I clear ourselves from out of the hellish room. Malfoy and Hermione shove all of their body weight against the door in an effort to close the barricade holding the beast.

The door smashes the snout of one of the heads as it lets out a bellowing cry.

I yell at Ron to help them. I only had the use of one arm along with a severely fucked up equilibrium. With how bloody dizzy I am, the monstrous dog could in fact only have one head but I'm seeing three.

I helplessly watch on, horrified for our lives.

Ron finally gains the gumption to get back up on his feet. Malfoy and Hermione grunt in thorough struggle, losing the battle of strength against the behemoth creature.

Unexpectedly, Ron winds his fist back and punches one of the deformed dog heads directly on its nose. It howls another loud cry as it fully retracts itself back into the dungeon.

The three jump at the opportunity and slam the door shut. Ron turns to me shaking from head to toe, his face as pale as a ghost. His back slides down the door until he faces me on the ground.

"Good thinking, mate." I pant, initiating a tired high five with him.

Hermione stands frozen in place, horrified, with her arms snuggly wrapped around herself. Malfoy silently watches her who's also visibly shaken. I watch him pull her in for a hug, comforting her in his arms.

_And _I'm nauseous again.

Hermione slightly inches away from his touch by default, but her eyes remain glued on my roommate.

"What on _earth_ are the four of you doing here?" Professor Snape abruptly emerges from the darkness charging toward Malfoy. Malfoy promptly removes his arms from around Hermione.

"All of you; get _back_ to your dormitories," he instructs annunciating every syllable. "_Now_."

Ron and I boost ourselves up from the ground. I dust my pants off while discreetly inspecting Snape.

What the bloody hell was he doing here?

Sure, students weren't supposed to be here. That's fine. It's _forbidden_. The creepy room, cob webs, and lethal trio headed dog clued me into that.

But why was _Snape _here?

The four of us silently make our way to the stairwell.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape addresses. "You will join me outside of the Common Room in 2 minutes. Is.._ that.. clear_?"

I glance back at my roommate. He uncomfortably rubs the back of his neck while staring at the ground. He appears guilt ridden; caught red handed in some sort of unidentifiable act.

Malfoy gradually nods his head. I give one last look between him and my dodgy professor before successfully making my way back to the loathsome staircase.

It was one hell of a grueling day, and it was time to _go to bed_.


	12. The Two Brooding Slytherins

**The Next Morning**

I discovered that sleeping with a sprained arm is bloody uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that I barely got a drop of sleep. I heard Malfoy come back into our room late into the night after his meeting with Snape, but I acted like I was asleep and I'm sure he was just fine with that. He wasn't the type to come running back to our room full of gossip anyway.

I would most likely never know what the tall, lanky professor with daft black hair said to Malfoy. The Head of Slytherin looked over my roommate like an obnoxious overbearing uncle, and I didn't envy being the victimized nephew.

I make my way to the Main Hall for breakfast with a very tight-lipped Malfoy. Today was the first day of quidditch practice that I would resentfully not be participating in. But that didn't mean that Malfoy was deprived from partaking in our new sport.

"Excited to make an arse of yourself in front of the whole team today?" I taunt. "You're lucky my arm is a bloody mess; don't want to embarrass you on the first day or anything."

Maybe a little early morning verbal confrontation with my roommate would cheer him up.

He grumbles something incomprehensible under his breath.

_Never mind_.

I stay silent for the rest of our walk.

We take a seat across from his minions before serving ourselves. A fresh cup of coffee was sitting, waiting perfectly for the two of us as expected each morning.

Peering across the room, I casually seek out Ginny. She's toward the end of the Gryffindor table with a group of girls giggling. She's wearing her quidditch robes and has her hair in a sleek ponytail. Her head turns as she ritualistically looks directly at me.

As opposed to cowering and turning the other direction like before, I confidently maintain eye contact. A subdued smile appears on her face mirroring mine.

I notice Ron and Hermione approaching the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle look to their commander, waiting for their signal to move. Malfoy sits with both forearms laid on either side of his plate against the table. His head hangs low and he inattentively stares at the silverware beneath him.

Apparently, I had to play leader today.

I raise my eyebrows leaning toward Crabapple and Gargoyle. "Off you go," I coolly instruct.

Goyle rolls his eyes and swings a leg over the bench before storming off. Crabbe follows close behind.

Ron's wearing a ragged burgundy t-shirt with the logo for the Gryffindor quidditch team that looks like it had been passed down a few generations. Even though he didn't make the team, his twin brothers were some of the most infamous modern-day players of the sport. I appreciated the bond and support that the Weasleys held for each other. I always have. One could call it envy.

Hermione excitedly bites her lip throwing her bookbag on the table. "We _must_ talk about last night."

"Must we?" I groan.

"Did you see it?" she ignores my grouchiness.

"Hmm.. dog with three heads? About 40 feet tall?" I respond full of sarcasm. "Yeah, I noticed it."

"You didn't see what it was standing on?"

Her eyes rotate between me and Ron. The clueless expression on his face most likely matched mine. She narrows her eyes leaning closer. "Honestly, do I have to put the pieces of the puzzle together _every single time_ for you two?"

Ron and I glance at each other shrugging our shoulders.

"It was _standing_ on a trap door." She heavily rolls her eyes. "_Something_ is being held down there. Something that requires burdensome security."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Malfoy decides to join in on the conversation. Apparently the coffee had kicked in. "I saw no such thing, Granger."

"Well then you weren't looking closely enough, _Draco_."

"_Aww, Draco_," someone on the other side of him mocks. "_How cute_."

He pensively looks off into the distance while taking a sip from his coffee. His jaw clenches as the mug comes slamming to the table.

"There _is_ no trap door!" he suddenly raises his voice. "There's _nothing_ in that bloody room other than an _overgrown puppy_." He forcefully throws a napkin to his plate and shoves himself from the table. He tugs on the sides of his jacket as he stands to his feet. "And it'd be in your best interest to _leave it alone_."

I snort to myself as I watch Malfoy storm off.

Someone certainly woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. He strides toward the exit exchanging an implicit look with Professor Snape who enters the hall.

Ron shakes his head pointing his thumb in Malfoy's direction. "Who pissed in _his _cereal?"

"Oh, he's _fine,_" Hermione insists with a listless hand wave. "He's just brooding; it's a Slytherin thing." I cock an eyebrow at her shoving a piece of toast in my mouth. "See, Ron? Harry's doing it now too."

I glare at her over my coffee cup concealing the smirk on my face.

Ron forces a purposeful phony smile while staring at someone behind me. "Good morning, Professor Snape!" he announces. "Sleep soundly, I hope?"

The Head of Slytherin wordlessly lingers behind me until the three of us eventually look up to him again in confusion. "Oh, _pardon me_," Snape scoffs. "_Apparently_ I'm not making it clear enough. Get _back _to where you belong _Gryffindors,_" he snaps pointing across the hall.

Ron and Hermione are quick to their feet. The students snicker around us like a pack of wild hyenas, amused by their master's discriminating orders. Ron yanks his pants down and moons half the Slytherin table in passing. Hermione smacks him on the shoulder heavily reprimanding him. I bite the tip of my knuckle holding back a laugh as I glance back up to Snape.

"Get up, Potter," he coolly instructs, choosing to ignore the disobedient redhead. "You'll be coming with me."

"And go with you where?"

"The headmaster's office."

* * *

Professor Dumbledore's office is breath taking. It's built in a cathedral setting with glass stained windows and high ceilings. It has a similar feel to a very sophisticated library, with antique books filling each shelf to capacity. The walls are scattered with portraits that come to life in true Hogwarts fashion.

I stand before the headmaster anxiously cracking my knuckles as I wait for him to speak.

Dumbledore rests his elbows on either side of the chair made of solid gold with his fingertips pressed together. He has a pleasant expression and a friendly smile partially hidden beneath his lengthy beard. "Congratulations on catching the snitch, Harry. I'm pleased to see that you weren't badly injured."

Professor Snape joins his side with his arms behind his back. His explicit, hostile stare and snobbish facade is in direct opposition from the headmaster.

"Thank you, sir," I respond in gratitude, still unsure why I'm even here. "That's a great honor coming from you."

"Headmaster, if I may?" Snape interjects in noticeable annoyance. Dumbledore gives the okay as the potions professor glides directly in front of me. "Mr. Potter, it has been brought to our attention that you succeeded in making the Slytherin quidditch team under false pretenses. Do you have _anything_ to say for yourself?"

The color drains from my face.

"_Mr_. Potter," Snape tempts. "_Answer the question_." He contently purses his lips awaiting my response.

"My apologies." I place my uninjured arm behind my back and approach him in a gradual manner. "Please, correct me if I'm wrong, _professor_.. but I believe the headmaster is more than capable of proposing his own questions. I would be more than happy to answer any of which, directly through _him_."

I glance to Dumbledore whose eyebrows are raised in light amusement. He silently leans forward in his seat taking a sip of tea.

Snape's upper lip curls at the unexpected response. "_Don't be smart with _me," he threatens through pressed teeth. "Now, explain how you caught the snitch in such treacherous conditions."

I swallow the dissipating saliva in my mouth as my eyes dart between him and Dumbledore. My right eye violently twitches and I give it an expeditious rub.

I had come to find that there were times, like the quidditch tryouts, where my eye would act up with minimal pain involved. Then there were moments like _these,_ where it felt as though someone had just blown pieces of ember directly into my eyeball.

"Ah, Professor Quirrell." Dumbledore acknowledges the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who cautiously enters the room. He was a spastic, anxiety ridden, middle-aged man with a severe stuttering issue and an odd liking for turbans.

"Perhaps you could assist in this matter," Dumbledore continues, encouraging Quirrell to join us.

"Ye-yes head-headmaster." He abides with a quick bow. "Hello Mr. Po- Po- Potter."

I give half a wave with one eye closed. I try to play it off as though a stray eyelash had invaded my right eyeball. But I'm not sure how much longer I can keep up this front. My bum eye is on _fire _like never before. I'm holding my breath to ensure that I don't let out any uncontrolled groans.

"Is something bothering you, Harry?" Dumbledore calmly asks.

"No- I just.. there's something in my eye." I lean forward sharply inhaling through my nose.

Before I know it, Snape is in my ear again. "Do you know how many months of detention _lying to the headmaster_ entails?" he threatens. "Now _show me_ your eye."

I wince while exhaling loudly through my mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about," I insist.

Of course, I knew _damn_ _well_ what he was bloody talking about.

_Someone _must have ratted me out to Snape regarding my deformity, which gave the rare advantage (or disadvantage, depending on the scenario) of temporary vision in different contrasts.

Apparently, the convenience of viewing the snitch in the pitch dark with my mutilated eye was a form of cheating for the Head of Slytherin. If only he understood that simply targeting the snitch was half the battle.

But of course, I didn't expect any form of sympathy from him.

"Don't make me ask you again," he warns.

"Why would you wish to look at an eyelash stuck in my eye?" I patronize him. "That's rather odd."

Snape charges toward me and assertively grabs my chin with his thumb and forefinger. He jerks my face inches from his.

Quirrell gasps placing a palm over his chest. "You- you should never pu-put your hands on a student," he advises from behind.

"_Severus_," Dumbledore warns standing to his feet. "Take your hands from the boy."

"_Open _your eyes you little _nuisance_," Snape threatens, his fingers digging into my jaw. I clench my eyelids shut sinking my fingertips into his wrist. The powerful scorching sensation heightens, and the ocular distortion throws me off balance.

The unexpected shift of my entire body weight frees me from his grasp. I use my free hand to break my fall as I hit the ground. He grabs a handful of my hair, yanking my head in his direction as I keep my eyes clamped shut. I can't see, but I can feel his hot breath now just centimeters from my face.

I whimper as his sturdy fingers achingly squeeze my cheeks together. At this point his fingernails are puncturing my skin, so I finally give in opening both eyes. A stream of blazing tears trickle down my irritated cheeks.

His dark black eyes perilously search mine. I peer into the depths of his ebony irises as I twist my mouth, hock a loogie, and launch it directly at his hooked nose. "_Piss off_," I seethe.

I can only see him in black and white at the moment, but I don't need color to recognize the satisfying look of thorough horror on his face. After giving one last torturous squeeze, he aggressively shoves my head backward and removes a handkerchief from his robes.

I cry out in agony as I'm finally released from his grasp. I hurdle over extending my jaw with my mouth. My whole body is shaking, my chest is heaving and my temper is through the roof.

"Oh m-my," Professor Quirrell nervously stutters with wide eyes.

"_SEVERUS_!" Dumbledore roars commanding the room perfectly still. "I advised you not to touch Mr. Potter," he scolds as they come toe to toe. "Walk_ away_."

"_Headmaster_? This boy just _defiled _a teacher!" Snape hollers pointing at me.

"And I believe you have acted on something of the same sentiment, Severus. I suggest you leave. Promptly."

I elevate my head, basking in the image of Snape's powerless departure from the room. I can't help but notice the vindicated smirk on Professor Quirrell's face as he exits on his coattails. Feeling a justified smile creeping across my lips myself, I hang my head low.

Once we're left alone, Dumbledore approaches me and places a firm hand on my shoulder. My arm is draped across my knees and my face remains hidden.

"Look at me, dear boy."

I rapidly blink ejecting hot merciless tears from the bottoms of my eyelids. Gradually raising my head, I close my eyes tight before courageously exposing both at the same time.

"I see," Dumbledore somberly notes observing my reptilian right eye. I watch the elderly man make his way back to his thrown. He quietly takes a seat, motioning his hand for me to occupy the chair across from him.

"Tell me, Harry. Do you know how your mother and father passed?"

"Voldemort.. he- he murdered my parents." I choke over my words trying to catch my breath as I take a seat.

"That would be correct," he softly answers.

"And- and _this_." I reluctantly point to the right side of my face. "Is just a _friendly_ reminder."

"I'm afraid it's more than just a reminder.. _or_ friendly, at that, Mr. Potter."

We sit in silence as I hang my forehead in my hand. Keeping my eye shut seemed to soothe and alleviate the pressure.

"Your eye concerns me deeply, Harry. We must look further into the source of its origination. I'm afraid it appears to be the work of dark magic," he advises with bloody _years_ of wisdom to support his theory. "I would like for us to meet in my chamber on Monday morning."

My heart drops in trepidation. I had _so_ many questions for him. But in the moment, I couldn't construct a proper sentence even if I tried.

I glance up at him with one eye. "If that's what you wish, sir."

"Very good." He interlaces his fingers bringing his hands toward his mouth. "In the meantime, I'll instruct Madam Pomfrey to concoct a counteractive saline. Temporarily relief, at least."

"Thank you, sir. I'll see you on Monday." I stand up with a quick bow before speed walking toward the exit.

"And Harry," he calls.

"Sir?"

"Remember to keep your anger at bay," he advises. "Possessing a power as such will only strengthen its grip the more you use it."

I silently peer back at him utterly guilt ridden. I knew I couldn't make that promise to the headmaster.

So I don't.

Holding his gaze, I use my hand to push the door open and remorsefully exit his office.

* * *

**Later That Night**

I heatedly enter my room with clenched fists. To my displeasure, I'm greeted by Snape's little arse kisser.

Malfoy nonchalantly folds his quidditch jersey. "Where have you been all day?"

"You know _damn well_ where I was." I slam the door shut rattling the walls.

He casually places the uniform on his bed with an arched brow. "Why the hissy fit, Potter?"

"Oh, _cut the bullshit_ Malfoy." I waste no time getting in his face. "You're the _only _one who knew," I plead as I jam my finger against his chest.

His unfazed expression only pisses me off further. He fearlessly stares directly into my eyes, focusing on the one with the serpent appearance. "What're you're getting at?" he sneers through gritted teeth. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought."

"You just couldn't_ stand_ the idea of being on the quidditch team with me, could you?" I continue to unleash my unkempt animosity. "You already _made_ the team as a chaser. Did it really bother you _so _much that I proved myself worthy as a seeker? Did it make you jealous?!"

Malfoy clenches his jaw placing both hands in his pockets. "That's a load of rubbish_, _Potter. I have _zero_ reason to be envious of you. You're making a mockery of yourself." He collectively makes his way toward our bedroom door.

"Where do you think you're going?" I trail behind him blatantly looking for a fight. "This conversation is _not_ over."

"On the contrary, I believe it is." He looks me up and down before glancing at his watch. "I have a surprise party to attend honoring the record breaking, first-year _Slytherin seeker._ Bloody _git_."


	13. The Surprise Party

The Slytherin Common Room is packed from wall to wall. Students from a variety of houses and class levels are in attendance.

I'm nervous knowing that this surprise party was meant for me. It felt brilliant to have everyone's attention on me in recognition of making the Slytherin quidditch team, yet I'm anxious as all hell.

I have loads of social anxiety and I wasn't used to having so many people wanting to speak to me at once. My brain tended to backfire when I was in these situations, and I'd end up doing something bland like commenting on the bloody weather or something.

The _infamous _Harry Potter: the socially awkward Boy Who Lived. That sounded fitting.

A spot light appears from the ceiling temporarily blinding me.

"Ladies and gentleman!"

I shield the blaring light with my hand as I glance over to Ginny who's using her wand as a microphone. It doesn't take long to notice she's wearing my favorite blouse of hers; the burgundy halter top that hugs her torso in _all _of the right places.

"I'm proud to present Hogwarts' FIRST-YEAR SLYTHERIN SEEKER!" She motions her body toward me as if she were showcasing a brand-new car on The Price is Right.

Everyone erupts in cheer as I awkwardly raise my hand briefly. I peer across the extensive room spotting Malfoy in the corner with Crabbe and Goyle. He neglects to pay attention to the announcement in a trance-like state, staring into nothingness.

"Ginny, wait." The glaring light lowers as I grab her wrist pulling us to the side.

She crosses her arms with her head cocked to the side. "Uhh, yeah?"

"I'm unsure whether we should be having this party.." I nervously chuckle running a hand through my bangs. "I'm not sure if I'm even still on the team. Snape said-"

"_Oh,_ Snape is such a grouch sometimes," she cuts me off with the flick of her wrist. "Sure, he's the Head of Slytherin. But Marcus over there is the Slytherin team captain." She points in his direction as I give another awkward half-wave to the coach I hadn't met prior to this evening.

"And _I _am the team captain that saw your potential," she adds. "We have more leverage than that tired old git."

"Well, the thing about Snape.." I uncomfortably rub the back of my neck. ".. him and I don't get along very well.. I uh- kind of spat in his face earlier today."

Ginny bursts into a giggling fit. Her eyes flash with excitement swaying her shoulders from side to side as she bites the tip of her finger. "That's rather sexy of you, Potter."

I roll my eyes with a smirk. "Ginny, I'm serious!"

"You _seriously_ worry too much. So long as Dumbledore didn't tell you, or Marcus, or me otherwise; you're Slytherin's bloody seeker, and we're bloody keeping it that way, alright?" She purses her lips shifting through her purse. "You need to loosen up. I've got _just _the thing."

Pulling a mini vial from her bag, she unplugs the cork and hands it over. The potion is a golden color with a fizzy texture that releases a trail of smoke. I use my thumb to push the rolled-up sticker against the surface.

It reads: _Felix Felicis _

"What is this?"

"Would you _stop_ asking questions and just trust me for once?"

I give into peer pressure and toss the cork to the side as she opens one for herself. She intertwines our arms as we toss back the carbonated liquid at the same time. It tastes like blueberries and mint.

The colors around us dramatically brighten to full capacity. A wave of euphoria crashes over me and I'm growing antsy. I feel the need to talk, and I can't wipe the uncontrolled smile from my face.

I'm led to a corner of the room where Ginny introduces me to Marcus and the men and women of my team. Unlike most unwelcoming Slytherins, my teammates make me feel right at home.

I'm confident, talkative, friendlier than usual and I'm certain that the potion was accountable for the anxiety-free euphoric altercation to my mood.

I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to find Malfoy. It was hard to ignore the fact that he hadn't participated in our teammates' cheers and I was curious as to why he wasn't celebrating with us. And for some reason I yearned for him to join in on the fun.

I hurriedly tell Ginny that I'd go grab us a couple of drinks as she continues to mingle with the Gryffindor team.

I find Malfoy seated on the same couch with his head lazily tilted to the side. His eyes are glazed over and he ignores a girl from Slytherin, I think her name is Pansy, who sits on his lap toying with his hair.

Crabbe and Goyle are beside them hovered around a poor bloke from Hufflepuff who's passed out drunk. They're in the process of creating a disastrous masterpiece on his face; using their wands to draw the ink. His closed eyelids have fake eyes drawn on them, along with an extremely veiny dick on his forehead.

Malfoy's minions foolishly hide their wands behind their backs once I approach them.

"Oi- Thing 1 and Thing 2," I address them with raised brows. They look up to me in trepidation. "_Fuck.._ _off._" They promptly scurry off with their tail between their legs.

I take a seat next to Malfoy setting the beers on the table next to us. "Hi," I cheerfully greet the girl. She looks down her nose at me. "I'm Harry; Harry Potter. Pansy, was it?"

"Pleasure," she says slowly. She hesitantly extends an arm toward me and I hastily shake her hand.

Malfoy's eyebrows instantly furrow once his eyes land on me. "Can't you see that I'm _busy_, Potter?" His arm snakes around Pansy's waist pulling her closer. "Did you come here to accuse me of more rubbish?"

I grab both cups of beer and offer him the one initially intended for Ginny as a peace offering. He accepts the offer placing the rim against his lips.

"Alright there, mate?" I ignore his hostility. I was in too good of a bloody mood to be affected by the daggers his eyes were currently throwing my way. "I'm still heated for what you did.. but-"

"Don't flatter yourself," he mutters closing his eyes as he speaks. "I have _far_ greater things to worry about than your bloody tantrums."

I had only known the bloke for a couple of weeks now, but it wasn't hard to recognize that something had been eating him alive lately. Whatever he was referring to was not just some extraneous drunken rant.

"Father always said that I would follow in his footsteps," Malfoy mumbles, his posture naturally sinking further into the couch. "A _direct_ representation to our family name.." His eyes slowly open and he shamelessly glares at Pansy; the daggers now being thrown _her _way. Clearly he didn't wish for her to be present while discussing the invasive topic.

The bird from Slytherin scowls at his expression of outright annoyance. She finally takes the hint, gets off his lap and walks to the other side of the room.

"Well.. whatever you're going through.." I pat him on the shoulder. "Just know that I'm here for you. Even though we butt heads often, I really care for you."

"Why are you grinning at me like that?" he sneers straightening in his seat.

"I don't know," I answer in full honesty. "I think that attractive redhead from Gryffindor drugged me."

Malfoy's chin wrinkles as he thoughtfully tilts his head to the side. "Never accept potions from alluring women, Potter. Rookie move."

With a rushed head nod I take the beer from his hand. "Think I'm gonna go find her. Enjoy the party."

I draw in a huge breath standing to my feet. I make my way to Ginny but I'm stopped by one of the beaters on my team. He leads us into a cheer in recognition of myself. And for some reason, I still don't feel an ounce of anxiety even while having everyone outright gawking at me.

I watch the Slytherin take out his wand as he circles it over a bowl of neon-green spiked punch. A portion of the glowing liquid emerges from the juice and morphs into the shape of a snitch. It darts around the room mirroring the actions of a real one.

With one swish of his wrist, the liquid snitch escalates toward me.

The room erupts in cheer. "Harry! Harry!"

I chuckle as I fearlessly hop on top of one of the tables and angle my head to the side. I jump from the surface and open wide as I catch the jello textured, lime flavored snitch in my mouth.

Everyone screams in celebration. I laugh, feeling my cheeks burn, as I hold a hand over my lips so none of the content spills out.

I _much _preferred this delicious snitch over the tedious real life one.

"That was brilliant!" Ron shouts making his way through the crowd. Hermione is by his side in a visual standoff with Pansy who was boldly back in Malfoy's lap.

"Ron! Hermione!" I holler bringing them both in for a hug. "It's fantastic to see you!"

"You seem.. different." Hermione squares my shoulders with her hands. "Don't think I've seen you smile this much since you conjured a rampant spider on Snape."

"Don't remind me," Ron mutters with a shiver.

"Guess I'm just in a good mood."

Was I really acting _that _noticeably different?

Before they have the time to question me further I wander away from my mates on a determined mission to find Ginny.

Everyone continues to mingle and dance as I weave through the crowd. I smile at everyone I pass, occasionally doing a quick jig when the moment hit me right.

It was the first time I felt as though I belonged and not simply forced. I _earned_ my spot here. Not just as a Slytherin, or on the quidditch team, but as a _student at Hogwarts University_.

I randomly bump into a bloke trying to dance with Ginny. She appears thoroughly disinterested. Her hazel-brown eyes brighten as they set upon me. Using me as a ploy, she detaches herself from the anonymous Ravenclaw.

"There you are!" she shouts over the music with a grin. As she jumps into my arms, I spill most of my beer from the unexpected body weight I'm now carrying. "See! I told you I could brighten you up," she adds with a wink.

"Ginny, what the bloody hell did you give me?" I still have a smile plastered on my face, yet I'm growing uneasy. Chugging down an unidentified potion from a fourth-year without _any_ explanation of its contents wasn't my wisest choice.

_Rookie move_ as Malfoy so eloquently pointed out.

"Liquid luck, of course." She answers the question as if I should have already known this or something.

Bloody hell, I barely knew _anything _about potions. If she didn't remember correctly, I don't particularly have a liking for the professor who teaches it. So why would I have any interest in the subject?

"And you couldn't have given this to me during the quidditch tryouts?" I plead.

"Now _that_ would be cheating. Besides, seems like you didn't need it anyway."

I shrug my shoulders with a smirk and nod in agreement. She turns her back to me and sways to the beat. I straighten my shaky hands and grasp onto either side of her hips.

The normal Harry would panic and mess up my chances considering I have two left feet and I tend to get stuck in my own head. But the 'liquid luck' Harry seemed to think and act differently.

The bass rattles my chest as I twirl Ginny in between my arms causing her to giggle. I grab both of her hands as we go into a bit of a dancing battle. She does the 'disco', pointing her finger to her hip and then up in to the air as I do some uncoordinated jig that makes her laugh once more.

My awkwardness tended to amuse the alluring redhead and I decided to take advantage of that.

My pace slows down as I feel a sudden wave of exhaustion. She looks at me in concern as I glide both sweaty palms across my face. I leave her side unannounced and guide myself to the side of the dance floor to catch my breath.

I imagine myself as a cartoon character; my heart ejecting in and out of my chest.

Feeling another influx of claustrophobia, I bolt for the patio door. The door swings open as my face is blasted with subarctic wind. I can instantly breathe better as goosebumps inundate the surface of my exposed skin.

"What're you doing out here silly?" Ginny wraps her arms around my neck from behind lightly pulling me backward. I turn to her, holding her in my arms with a straight face.

"I think I'm dying," I state matter-of-factly. There clearly was a downside to this brilliant potion and it was quickly approaching.

Ginny bursts into heavy laughter at my expense as my skittish eyes try to focus on her face.

"I'm glad you find this all bloody hilarious."

"Just _enjoy the ride_," she purrs.

"So I'm supposed to be lucky, am I?" A cunning smirk crosses my lips. "I know something that can test that." I daringly pull her in closer, tightly wrapping her in my arms.

Her enormous sparkling eyes glimpse up at mine as I inch my face closer. The grin on her face begins to dissipate as her lips near mine. My lower body quivers pushing up against her.

I lace my fingers through her silky-smooth burgundy hair, gaining a steady grip before I go in for the kill. Once her soft lips meet mine every ounce of paranoia instantly leaves my body. There's an overwhelming rush as I'm hit with another blissful wave of euphoria. Ginny's fingers dig into the sides of my hips as she deepens the kiss.

"I told yeh!" Hagrid's heavy voice suddenly rattles the Common Room from inside. "No more parties yeh lil scoundrels!"

"Oh _no_," Ginny whines covering her mouth. "Bad luck; the potion must be wearing off. If Dumbledore finds out I threw the party I'll get detention for months.."

"Get yourself out of here," I confidently insist. "I'll handle Hagrid, he's my friend."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes dart between myself and the batch of students fleeing inside.

"Hagrid will be brilliant. I've got a really good feeling about this."

Ginny coyly smiles as her fingertips graze my cheek. She plants a quick kiss directly next to my lips and walks back inside with her head held high.

* * *

**30 Minutes Later**

"Yeh sure do have a pep in yer step there, Harry." Hagrid points out the obvious as I expeditiously tidy every surface in the barren Common Room.

I halt in place turning to him. "Remind me to _never_ blindly consume a potion from a beautiful girl again, would you?"

"Err, no promises there," he replies with a chuckle. "Been there, done that."

I lightly cringe at the thought as I watch him crack open a fresh bottle of vodka. Luckily at this celebration, there was plenty left to go around for the notorious party crasher.

"Say, Harry?"

"Yeah?" I peer up at him with the dumb smile that had revisited my face.

"I wanted teh apologize for havin' teh tell Dumbledore-"

"No, Hagrid, don't!" I beg. "You _can't_ tell him about the party. Ginny was just trying to make me feel welcome and-"

"Who?" he asks scratching his frizzy beard.

"Never mind." I shove my foot in my mouth. "Hold on.. tell Dumbledore about _what _exactly?"

"Bout yer eye o'course! After yer accident he asked 'bout it.. and I said; I saw yer eye at the muggle quidditch game over the summer, I did!"

"Say that again?" My eyes narrow connecting the dots. "_You_ told Dumbledore and Snape about my eye?"

"Well, no. You can blame Madam Pomfrey at the hospital wing for that!"

"So.. Malfoy had nothing to do with it.." Another wave of overturned pleasure pummels me.

"Malfoy?" Hagrid belches, placing a big hand over his belly. He helps himself to a plastic goblet, dunking it in the punch bowl before bringing it to his lips. "Malfoy don't know nothin' 'bout yer eye.. Least that's what he told Professor Snape.."

I collapse on one of the couches letting out an elongated, guilt ridden groan. I pinch the bridge of my nose while lightly rocking back and forth.

"Yeh alright there, Harry? I think that potion did yeh in good."

"I think so too." I stand to my feet buttoning my jacket. "Hagrid, I really must get going."

"Well, where yeh goin'?!"

"I owe someone an apology."


	14. The Day I Met the Dark Lord

**The Next Morning**

Hedwig, my living/breathing alarm clock, alerts that it’s time to wake up in a shrill manner. Malfoy lets out a guttural grown from across the room tossing a pillow in her direction.

Today is Monday and I would soon be meeting with Dumbledore as instructed. My alarm clock lets me know that I have a little under thirty minutes until I have to be in his office.

I throw a lazy arm over my eyes recalling the night prior. The surprise party was a great bit of fun and I was still coming down from an unfamiliar social high. I kissed Ginny, made a few mates on my team and found out through Hagrid that Malfoy wasn’t the one that sold me out to Snape in regards to my eye.

Well, perhaps that last part wasn’t so great.

I drearily stretch my arms over my head as I sit up in bed. I'm greeted by Draco who's still in the process of waking up. His legs hang over the side of the bed with a heavy head held between his hands.

My eyes widen as he raises his head to look at me. His normally perfect-in-place platinum blonde hair is unkempt and frizzing in every direction. Dark purple circles rim his lower eyelids and the tip of his nose is as bright as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

He thrashes his wand hand toward the mini fridge in the corner while muttering an incantation under his breath. The door creaks open to the compartment and a tiny water bottle emerges from the refrigerator; summoned directly to the caster. Magic granted many life hacks, and curing a hangover at the swish of the wrist was one of them.

“Hungover, mate?”

Draco languidly raises both brows in response. His glossy eyes roll around in his head slowly making their way toward me.

I wasn’t much of an apologizer and I wasn’t any good at it. So, I get straight to the subject and get it over with. “I know it wasn’t you who told Snape,” I say bluntly. “I was out of line for blaming you.”

"I already explained that your tantrums are of little importance to me." His dry, scratchy voice leaves his tone undetectable. But based off how sickly my roommate currently looked; I believed every word he said. “I’m going to shower,” he announces.

My watch beeps indicating that it's 8 AM. I hope out of bed and throw open the top-drawer removing a fresh t-shirt.

I notice Malfoy stall at our open bedroom door from the corner of my eye. He bends over and picks something up before turning back to me. I turn my head to find him examining what appeared to be a shoe box close to his nose. He uses his fingers to leaf open the tag securely sealed to the surface. His chin wrinkles as he parts the box open and takes a peek inside.

A repulsed expression washes over his face as he yanks the shoe box a fair distance from his face. He raises a skeptic eyebrow while peering at me in contempt. “There’s a bloody snake with your name on it.”

“There’s a what?” I close the top drawer to my dresser and throw the shirt over my shoulders. I ignore his incredulous facial appearance and tear the box from his fingers.

The tag reads: _To: Harry Potter – Handle with Care - From: An Old Friend_

I open the shoe box and my eyes instantly latch onto the tiny serpent with glowing yellow eyes and neon green scales. Even though it’s coiled up into a ball I can tell it is approximately 12 inches long.

Frankly, it was the most beautiful snake I’d ever seen. I’d always wished to own a pet snake, but my mother was repulsed by such ‘ugly creatures’ and Hagrid wasn’t fond of them back when I requested one in Diagon Alley. Coming from a house whose mascot is a snake, I make an educated guess that the creature was some sort of miniature python.

“_No one _owns snakes for a pet; not even Slytherins,” Draco states the obvious.

“Do I sense jealousy?” I smirk as I curl a finger and run it along its rough scales.

“Hardly,” he scoffs. “Who’s it from?”

“I don’t know. All I know is it certainly wasn’t Hagrid. I don’t particularly have many relatives to send me gifts either.”

“Fair enough,” he replies with narrowed eyes. “Well, aren’t you going to name it?”

“Any recommendations?” I extend my arm as the serpent slowly wraps its body around my wrist. “Perhaps I’ll name it twat; after you.”

Draco dramatically rolls his eyes at me. “_Really_, Potter?”

“Lighten up.” I smirk while taking a seat on my bed. “I’m thinking of the name Callidus. Sounds wicked.”

“Odd name for a pet,” he points out before exiting the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

I lay on my back on my bed and chuckle to myself while placing the snake on my chest. It curiously sways it’s head back and forth while closely examining me.

“You thought my joke was funny, didn’t you?” I mutter to it.

My newfound friend gleefully nods its head in response.

* * *

After making my way to Dumbledore's office, the headmaster leads me through a hidden doorway. We enter an intimately sized room with a peculiar structure in the middle. The stoned artifact is shaped similar to a shallow bird bath that holds a holographic liquid moving in a cyclonic motion.

"Over my years, Harry, I've come to find that I am more of a visual learner," he explains approaching the contraption.

I eagerly near his side. "Me as well, Sir.”

"Very good." He lightly smiles with a nod, watching me closely through the reflection of the mirrors surrounding us. "This is called a Pensieve," he explains. "It allows me to see things that I've already seen. Whether that be something of the conscious mind, or hidden deep in the subconscious." His long, wrinkled fingers grasp the sides of the Hogwarts heirloom.

"That's brilliant." I'm instantly hypnotized by the rhythmic liquid. "_Any_ memory at all?"

Dumbledore removes his hands from the stoned object and interlaces his fingers before him. "There _are_ limitations, of course. There are those who purposefully block out painful memories. If the mind is not ready to view such scenarios, the Pensieve will be of no use."

"What do you wish to show me, Sir?" 

"It is not for me to show, Harry. This is something to see for yourself; rather, you will be showing _yourself_ what you'd like to see."

It takes a few moments to wrap my head around the perplexing Pensieve. I slowly gulp while filling in the blanks. "You want me to uncover the memory of my encounter with Voldemort.”

Dumbledore's eyes briefly close as he nods, holding an unreadable expression. "If we are to get to the origination of your eye, we must start with your origin in itself."

My chest tightens in a similar sensation to the first night Malfoy informed that my parents were dead. I place a delicate hand over my aching chest nearing the Pensieve once more.

"Harry, I must warn that this may be _very _disturbing. Of course, I do not know which memories you retained as an infant. However, I must advise that the Pensieve knows no bounds when one is faced with a traumatic memory. There is no escape until the process is through."

I pace the tiny room with one hand shielding my forehead and the other on my hip. The unpredictable artifact is intimidating to say the least. It would be convenient to own one of these contraptions at home; for whenever I couldn't remember where I left my PS4 controller or car keys..

But to redeem the memory of _the death of my biological parents_? With virtually _no idea _of what I was about to witness?

"You don't have to do this," Dumbledore points out, observing my nervous body language. "For a first-year, using something as advanced as the Pensieve could be overwhelming.. _traumatizing._"

A heavy rush of adrenaline consumes me and I know what I have to do. "I want to know." I nod my head, confidently striding directly before the headmaster. "I want to remember."

"Very well. I will be vicariously processing the memories through you," he informs. He then removes his uniquely crafted wand from his robes and nears the tip to my temple. "Good luck."

* * *

After being instructed to lean face first into the contents of the Pensieve, I'm instantly teleported to another time frame. I'm restricted behind a glass barrier just inches from my face and I’m unable to move.

I can see through the glass that Dumbledore had stripped a memory from my infancy. I get a sense of familiarity standing in presumably my old nursery. I closely observe myself from the third person rolling around in the crib as a baby.

I shove both useless hands against the surface in front of me in a desperate attempt for ventilation. I'm growing claustrophobic and trying my best not to hyperventilate. Condensation forms around my fingers imprinting my hands.

There's utter commotion in the next room as a series of windows get blown out and shatter across the ground. I'm startled as an explosion bursts through the door, emitting a green light that illuminates every crevice of the room. Something falls to the ground like a heavy sack of potatoes. Shortly thereafter, a voice that I was unknowingly acclimated to penetrates my ears.

_"James!! No, James!!"_

I hold my breath, retaining the dwindling oxygen, as I anticipate my mother's entry into the nursery. She sprints into the room scooping me up from the crib. Her long, strawberry blonde hair swishes over me as I'm held close to her chest.

_"No! Not him!! Please!!"_

I whimper, pounding both fists heavily against the surface. I'm forced to listen to her heart-wrenching pleads as I'm helplessly enslaved behind the inconspicuous wall.

The force field encircling me suddenly fills with water expeditiously. My thighs are promptly submerged and my knees tremble peering down at the rising tide.

I’m distracted by a hooded figure that glides into the room creeping toward my mother. It levitates above the ground with dark smoke expelling from the bottom of its robes.

_"You mustn’t make yourself a casualty in this, Lily. Now hand over the boy! This is my last warning.."_

I slam my fists against the barrier like a mad man in a frantic attempt to grab her attention. I'm fully aware that I'm presently witnessing a memory, but that doesn't stop me from trying. Hot tears stain my cheeks as I plead for her to let him have me and save herself. 

_"Not Harry! Not my baby boy! Please, have mercy!!"_

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!!”_ A bright green lightning bolt emits from the tip of his wand inducing another explosion.

And that's when I hear it; the desperate, excruciating scream of my mother's life being taken from her. I frantically cry out in horror as she collapses to the floor. Relentlessly punching the invisible blockade, the water soon rises above my neck.

My stagnant eyes are obliged to examine the dark caped figure. _"Nagini.. come._"

A 12-foot-long snake enters the room and obediently slithers toward its master. I instantly notice that it holds an uncanny appearance to my new pet snake; coloration, details and all. The enlarged creature weaves around my mother's lifeless body and makes its way toward its premeditated prey; my infant self.

The enormous snake picks up momentum charging forward until Voldemort orders it still. The Dark Lord maniacally cackles as I innocently crawl on the floor just inches from my dead mother.

_"At last he is mine, Nagini_._"_ My eyes widen as the perilous reptile straightens it's neck, hovering over me. _"He will undoubtedly grow strong one day.. but what to do with the boy.."_

The monstrous reptile exposes it’s 6-inch fangs and independently decides to make the decision for its master; it was going to kill me. 

_"Stop!" _Voldemort shouts as the serpent strikes me.

The second it's fang pierces the outer layer of my cornea, a blinding light catapults the Dark Lord and his snake across the room.

I watch on from behind the force field as my right eye spontaneously bursts into flames. The entire right side of my face promptly catches fire. I scream in agony before I'm fully submerged in water. 

An influx rushes down my throat and extinguishes the flames from my face. I slowly drown as my mother's blood curdling screams haunt me, echoing throughout my dissipating surroundings.

The glass barrier finally shatters and I break free. I collapse to the ground on all fours in recognition that I had returned to Dumbledore's office. I hyperventilate with both hands latched to the right side of my burnt face. I'm choking, expelling the suffocating sensation from my body.

"Harry. _Harry_!!" Dumbledore grabs my shoulders as I gag gasping for air. "Breathe, my dear boy. _Breathe_."

I continue to struggle coughing up water that was _never_ inhaled, and I persistently rub the eye that had _never_ caught fire.

The Pensieve had reflected my suffocation, anger and helplessness to the scenario. Every torturous physical sensation I had endured was just an illusion.

Dumbledore helps me sit up and offers a tiny vial. He uncorks the potion placing it in the palm of my hand. "Drink," he instructs in a soothing tone. "It'll take the edge off."

Though I had learned last night that taking unidentified potions from witches and wizards wasn’t ideal, I was desperate to seek relief. The liquid tranquilizer instantly alleviates my disorientation as my breath stabilizes.

Dumbledore gracefully raises to his feet with his hands held before him. "Now you know of your origins, Harry."

"But this answers virtually nothing," I rebuttal in aggravation. "If anything, this has only left me with _more_ questions."

"And now is not the time for answers. That will be enough for today."

"So that's it?!" I raise my voice standing to my feet. I feel my temperature raise. "You put me through the torture of watching my own mother be slaughtered, and now you aren't willing to speak on it?!"

Dumbledore turns his back to me exiting the private room. He calmly takes a seat at his throne. "We will meet again. Nothing will be accomplished with your current state of mind. You must trust the process, and you must _calm down_."

"CALM DOWN?!" I roar. My vision wildly sputters while the lighting in the tower flickers and goes dark. 

"_Mr. Potter._" Dumbledore calmly casts a hand over a group of candles illuminating the small area surrounding him.

My chest heaves while my breathing escalates. Dumbledore’s appearance transitions from black and white, to ultraviolet and back again.

"It is time for you to _leave._" The headmaster's apprehensive tone and expression do not go unnoticed. 

I squeeze my eyes shut; my hands clenched into fists just as tight. "I'm- I'm sorry for my behavior, Professor," I manage to spit out. Without looking at him I speed walk out of the poorly lit room utilizing my superior, _dominant _right eye. 


	15. The Girls from Gryffindor

It's the middle of October and autumn is in full effect at Hogwarts University.

The leaves covering boundless trees across campus have turned to an orangish yellow. A crisp chill is in the air, and a constant fragrance of apple cinnamon wafts through the towers.

It's the first time out of my room in what felt like days. I fell into a deep depression following my traumatizing meeting with Dumbledore. The disturbing experience sent me into a downward spiral straight to psychological hell.

On top of that, I'm ashamed of the way I behaved around Dumbledore. The little to no control I have over my growing rage has only flourished as predicted by the headmaster. By association, I'm inwardly aware that my right eye is gaining dominance and more control by the day.

The days where I referred to it as my 'bum eye' are gone. It's inarguable that the unpredictable, yet to be discovered negative side effects are precarious. But the intoxicating surge of power gives me an empowering rush only leaving me wanting more.

_Craving_ more.

Through the course of my self-established isolation, Dumbledore graciously excused my absences from class for the time being. My professors allowed my homework to be delivered and received through Malfoy. He would occasionally try to teach me new spells but there were too many accidents involved; there was now a gaping hole next our bedroom door and we were running out of pillows to practice on.

After apologizing to Malfoy for my blind accusations, our friendship bounced back resiliently. He wasn't much of a talker.. or a forgiver.. or one to speak on his feelings.. but he showed in his own ways that he forgave me. Helping with my schoolwork was one of them.

* * *

It's my first day returning to class and we were just dismissed from Charms. My arm was no longer in that bloody sling and I was passed by Snape, surprisingly, to partake in quidditch practice today. Hermione offers to walk me to practice since her next class was on the way. Though I really wasn't in the mood to mingle, I missed her gorgeous face and her company.

Hermione's hair is up in an elegant bun with a few loose strands framing her heart shaped face. A collared black and white polka dot blouse wraps around the nape of her neck beneath her robes.

"So.. how are you doing?" she asks.

"I'm good," I blandly reply adjusting the duffel bag on my shoulder. She stops walking in place with an incredulous look on her face. "What?"

"What do you mean _what_?" She closely observes me with furrowed brows. After letting out an exaggerated sigh she resumes her pace and walks a few feet ahead of me. She then spins on her heels; halting once more. "You haven't gone to class in over _two weeks_. Ever since your meeting with Dumbledore, you haven't even _gotten out of bed_. You were only willing to do so for quidditch practice today. Draco told me.."

"Well _Draco_ is being dramatic. I got out of bed.. to like, shower and stuff.." I grimace at the borderline pathetic statement. "What were you doing with Malfoy anyway?"

"Nothing." She squeezes her textbooks, hugging them closer to her chest. "He was just teaching me the new levitation spell, that's all."

"Yeah, like I'm supposed to believe that," I sneer. "The smartest witch in the school _definitely_ needs help from a Malfoy, right?"

"Well he's been helping you, hasn't he?"

I languidly raise my eyebrows in agreement.

"And _s__top_ changing the subject, Harry." Hermione creates a human barrier stopping me in place. "What you experienced that day with Dumbledore was horrific. Borderline barbaric.."

I chuckle shaking my head. "You're telling me."

"I'm serious." Her hazel eyes ignite as they meet mine. "I know you don't want to talk about it.."

I frivolously nod my head in another agreement. But she continues anyway.

".. Just remember that I'm here for you no matter what. Okay?" She cradles her books in one arm before giving both of my hands a tight squeeze.

I lightly smile looking down at her. "Thanks Hermione, I could really use a friend right now. To be honest, Professor Snape gives _shit _advice," I tease.

A bashful smile spreads across her lips as she folds her arms. "How many times must I tell you _not_ to talk down on a teacher? Don't you think spitting in his face a few weeks ago was good enough?"

"Blimey, that's right. How _dare _I violate your crush?"

"I do _not_ have a crush on a teacher!" she shouts, her cheeks turning tomato red.

"Mmm, I am unsure.. whether.. I agree with you, Miss.. _Granger_," I taunt in my best elongated 'Snape voice'. She giggles as I stroke my chin. "Mmmyes, I will be.. _seeing you.._ in detention.. you _naughty_ little girl."

Hermione tries to hide the beaming smile behind her hand. "_Stop_!" she warns before firmly slapping my chest with unexpected force.

"Ow, bloody hell!" I bend over pretending to be in immense pain. "_You hit my arm,_" I whine covering my eyes.

"Oh my goodness! I'm _so sorry_!" she panics placing a hand on my back. "Are you alright?"

I slowly raise my head with a grin before charging at her. I forcibly grab both of her hands and our bodies twist and tangle in the impromptu battle. Her books crash to the floor as I stumble over her. I'm now hunched over her, firmly grasping her wrists from behind. I have her perfectly locked in place.

"Harry _let go of me_!" Hermione's infectious giggle warms my icy heart, and I have no intention of letting her free any time soon.

While keeping her in a bear hug, she slowly turns her head toward me and our faces end up only inches apart. My heart does a backflip as we lock eyes. The smile dissipates from her lips as we stand perfectly still; my arms now snuggly wrapped around her waist and her dainty hands now gripping my forearms.

"Hey, Potter." I glance up to find Ginny who's perched against a brick wall. The Gryffindor team captain shamelessly peers at us disapprovingly.

Maybe she felt the unexpected tension between us. Bloody hell, I wasn't expecting it either..

A pair of oversized rhinestone rimmed sunglasses rest on the bridge of Ginny's nose. She's fully decked out in her quidditch gear with a scarlet and gold cape tucked behind her neck. Since Marcus didn't have a seeker to train me, I was supposed to be tutored by her today.

"Oh hey, Ginny." I promptly release Hermione's waist. She kneels to the floor while slowly picking up her books. She keeps a close eye on the fellow Gryffindor. "I was uh- I was actually just on my way to practice," I add rather awkwardly.

"Really?" Ginny challenges. "Well, the field is _that _way." She points in the direction behind us.

I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders throwing my gym bag over them. "Right.. I must have missed it."

"_Distractions will do that_." Lightly pushing herself from the wall, Ginny struts past us looking over her shoulder at me. "Well, are you coming?"

I give Hermione a quick hug. "I'll see you around." She fluidly raises her brows in response with her lips agitatedly pursed to the side. Her eyes remain focused on my bossy quidditch comrade.

"Ginny," I call after her as I jog toward her with my gear. "Marcus wants me to screen you today. I noticed you don't have your broom.. how will you be able to, you know, train me?"

"And _I_ noticed you went and got your bloody arm sprained which isn't fully healed. How will you be able to you know.. fly?" she replies with a slick tone. "Get you knocked out for the whole season? No, no, no. Not on my watch."

I smack my lips and stare up to the sky while taking a deep breath. "So then, _what_ will I be doing exactly?"

"You'll slip into your uniform and leave your equipment behind.." She slowly runs a finger across my torso maintaining eye contact. ".. And you'll be on the field in 10. Got it?"

I reluctantly nod my head with closed eyes.

"And by the way," she adds stopping directly in front of me. "On the field, you refer to me as either Coach, or Captain. _Not Ginny. _Understand?"

I wrinkle my forehead at the unnecessary attitude being spewed my way. I didn't come out of bed today for this rubbish.

"Sure thing, _Captain._"

* * *

The locker room is filled with my teammates. I unenthusiastically throw my gym bag full of ready to be used equipment in my locker. After forcefully slamming it shut with my foot, I notice Malfoy across the way. He quickly tilts his chin up in acknowledgement as I do the same.

"Alright, mate?" I pat him on the shoulder as I near his side.

Malfoy cocks an eyebrow as an unspoken hello to me; per usual. He picks up either side of his forest green gym bag and shakes everything into place before zipping it. A miniature box falls to the ground and I bend over to pick it up for him.

"Since when did you fancy candy?" I ask observing the label.

_Enchanted Chocolate HallowRing_

My eyes narrow as I open the miniature box. A ring with a dark chocolate pretzel infused band holds two shimmery orange and black edible diamonds that smell of peach and blueberry.

"I _don't_ fancy candy," he scoffs swiping the box from my fingers.

My mouth twists in confusion. "Then who's that for; _Hermione_?" I tease in a mocking tone. My smile drops as the pensive expression on his face remains. Based off his body language, I'm confident that I guessed correctly.

Yet for some reason, deep down, I hold hope that I hadn't.

"She pointed out this candy on the train; the first day we met." He delicately pinches the edible ring between his fingers raising it above his face. "I didn't have the courage to buy it for her then."

My eyes dart from side to side feeling my cheeks lightly flush.

Not only did Malfoy just fearlessly confirm his feelings for Hermione, but he actually went out of his bloody way to buy her something as romantically symbolic as this?!

I have _no _right to be feeling this possessive.

I mentally kick myself in the arse and suck it up. "That's uh.. that's brilliant, mate." I cancel out the risk of revealing the telling expression on my face and keep my eyesight on the floor.

Glancing to my watch I announce, "We better get to the field."

* * *

We join the rest of the team on the vast bright-green terrain. Each newbie is instructed to break off with their corresponding teammates for the first day of training.

I make my way toward Ginny who's currently lounging on a lawn chair with her heels kicked up. She has her face buried in a magazine flipping through the pages.

I'm instructed to run 5 laps around the enormous field, do 100 jumping jacks and 50 squats. I exhaustedly drag my feet toward the coach once I'm finished.

"Alright, I'm done.." I squirt water from a canteen into my mouth, simultaneously wiping the sweat across my forehead. I wait at the foot of Ginny's chair as the sun casts a shadow of my body over her.

She peers up at me irritably. "You're blocking my sun. Another two laps; carry on."

I furiously swipe the magazine from her hands. Her mouth hangs agape as she swings her legs to the side of the lawn chair. Placing both boots on the grass, she promptly stands before me and raises her sunglasses.

"Look, Gin- _Coach_. What exactly does _any_ of this have to do with, ya know.. training me to be a _bloody _seeker?!"

She exaggeratedly puckers her lips as her eyes roll from side to side in contemplation. "Hmm.. not too sure.."

"Hmm.." I sarcastically reply tapping a finger on my chin. Maintaining eye contact, I leisurely toss her magazine to the bin. Her jaw drops to the floor once more. "Then why.. the bloody hell.. ARE YOU MAKING ME BUST MY ARSE?!" I shout louder than intended.

I place both hands on my waist and suck in a deep breath before rubbing my twitchy right eye.

Ginny bites the tip of her finger with a quick eyebrow raise. Taking one step closer to me, she abruptly grabs the front of my shirt yanking me inches from her face. "Because you are _so hot_ when you're angry." She swiftly runs her fingers down my chest digging her nails into my skin. After taking a quick glance over her shoulder, her hand lowers running a finger along the inside of my waistband. My knees quiver at the sensation.

I squeeze my eyes shut pushing the back of my knuckles against my lips. I quite literally have to shove a fist in my mouth before going off on the sexy redhead.

She slips a hand beneath my shirt and glides her fingers against my sweaty non-existent abs causing my torso to shudder. I'm livid, confused, and extremely turned on.. it's an _exceptionally_ uncomfortable combination.

"Ginny, stop." I pull her hand from beneath my shirt checking our surroundings. "I'm wearing _gym shorts_."

She cackles, thoroughly amused with herself as I watch on in bewilderment. I didn't think _any _of this was funny.

"So where were we?" she questions folding her arms. "30 sit ups? Only 70 more to go."

"You're unbelievable." I shake my head, lower myself to the grass and lay on my back.

She smirks using her wand to retrieve the magazine from the bin. "Go cry about it to your girlfriend."

With each sit up, I view Malfoy nearing closer from behind her.

"For the last time, Hermione's _not_ my girlfriend," I protest through gritted teeth. "And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're acting extremely jealous, _Captain_."

"Psh. Me? _Jealous_?" After another sit up, I freeze in the upright position. Malfoy approaches her from behind holding his broomstick. "But you two were so _cute _together earlier. After all, you make a brilliant pair. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor? How _scandalous_."

Malfoy stops in place with a puzzled expression.

"_Leave it alone_," I desperately plead. My eyes dart between her and Draco who's now slowly shaking his head.

"_Oh_ lighten up, Potter. I promised to never tell Ron about your little crush on her." Ginny proudly straightens her posture swishing her hair from side to side. She had _no idea_ the current damage she was doing. "She sure seems to be the prize to be won around here; what was her name again, Helen? Hermes? Herm-?"

"Hermione," Malfoy speaks up from behind.

Ginny sharply inhales twirling toward him. "And who are you?" she scoffs.

Malfoy fails to look at her with his eyes dead set on myself. "Is it true then?" he questions prowling toward me.

I don't fancy Hermione.

I _can't _fancy Hermione.

She's my friend, and she was already claimed by another Slytherin who was now glaring at me. Apparently my five second delay and guilt-ridden grimace was more than enough of an answer for him.

Malfoy mounts his broom with his jaw tightly clenched. After flipping me off he kicks off from the grass, shoots above the ground and meets with the rest of our team in the air.

Ginny confusedly peers between us as the snarky smile evaporates from her face. "Uh oh.. did I get you in trouble?" she cringes. If I didn't know any better, the Gryffindor actually felt _guilty_ for the first time today.

I run a petulant hand through my hair before collapsing on my back. "Just a little."

"Weasley." Marcus lowers himself from out of the sky on his broom. "A word, please. One of your Gryffindor's has gone and gotten his arm broken."

Ginny looks at me one last time in remorse before marching off with the Slytherin team captain.

I refrain from doing my next sit up and remain on my back against the brighter than normal green grass. I deeply inhale and tightly squeeze my twitchy right eye before opening both wide. I stare up at the sky with my hands on my stomach. Closing my left eye, I watch the ultraviolet dark blue clouds pass against the light red sky. I lightly smile at the visuals my dominant eye was currently presenting.

I spread my body flat against the field and decide to lie there for a little while.


	16. Halloween

It's Halloween night and the celebration feast was coming to a close. An array of pumpkin pie, cinnamon biscuits, apple cider, assorted candies and treats line the Slytherin table.

I sit alone at my table as I have for the last couple of days.

Malfoy and I haven't said a single word to each other since Ginny's blind accusations at quidditch practice. Based off the fact that Hermione has also been avoiding me in class and around the halls, I assume his delivery of the symbolic edible ring was a success.

I was still confused by the idea of my roommate fancying her. And _no_, this wasn't due to jealous reasons.

The members of the Malfoy family were well-renowned, proud representatives of the Slytherin house. His controversial love interest with the young woman from Gryffindor was simply unorthodox. The fact that he was boldly willing to defy such a sentiment spoke volumes.

I was honestly happy for them. If _only_ the stubborn bloke would give me a chance to express that..

I look straight ahead at the Gryffindor table. I pick out Ron whose side I've stuck by outside of segregated household events. I was grateful to have such a loyal friend even though I was in Slytherin. He was an easy going, fun loving class clown who stabilized my troubled, brooding (as coined by Hermione) self.

Seeing that Snape was nowhere in sight, I make the executive decision to go join my mates at the other side of the Main Hall.

"Hiya Harry," Fred greets. I throw a leg over the bench and take a seat next to Ron. "Heard our sister did you in real good the other day."

"She didn't mean it, mate." George shrugs his shoulders. "She was crying about it to us yesterday. I believe she fancies you."

I feel my cheeks burn. "Odd way of showing it," I admit.

The idea of Ginny crying over the matter was oddly alleviating. At least the Gryffindor team captain showed remorse for being jealous and unnecessarily getting me in trouble with Malfoy.

"She's a tough one.. Ginny." Ron joins the conversation throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Don't let it discourage you, mate."

"I'm fine." I shake my head while awkwardly adjusting in my seat. "It's more so my roommate; thinking I'm after his girlfriend. Where is Hermione anyway?"

"The loo."

"Potter." A finger jabs my shoulder from behind making me jolt. My head swishes to the side to find Malfoy towering over me. "A word please." He tilts his head to the side before exchanging glares with the Weasleys.

I begrudgingly follow after him as we make our way toward the exit.

"I wanted to inform you that Hermione and I are together now."

"That's brilliant," I reply earnestly. "Look mate, I don't have feelings for-"

Malfoy holds a hand up silencing me. "That redheaded friend of yours explained your situation."

"Ron?"

"No, not _Weasley.._ well, not _that _Weasley. Ginny, I think her name was. She advised that she was only hazing you. I'm aware that you aren't after my girlfriend, and I don't want any tension between us."

"Brilliant," I eagerly repeat. Maybe Ginny did have some redeeming qualities. "I don't want any tension between us either."

Malfoy extends an arm as we shake hands. This was almost too easy. Everything was going brilliantly. That was, until..

The pitter patter of rampant footsteps near us from down the hall. We turn to find Professor Quirrell rushing toward the Main Hall out of breath. He bolts past us and maniacally sprints through the entrance down the aisle in distress.

Malfoy and I trail after him.

"_LINDWORM IN THE DUNGEON! LINDWORM! IN THE DUNGEON! _Though you ought to know.." Quirrell's face turns ghost white before collapsing to the floor, dead weight.

This commences complete chaos. Everyone surrounding us screams and shouts while frantically moving about the room. I'm the only one in the entire hall who's maintaining a stable composure simply because I have no idea what the bloody hell a lindworm is.

The students persistently run around in sheer panic as Dumbledore commands everyone perfectly still using _one_ word. "_SILENCE_!"

The headmaster calmly instructs the house Prefects to direct each household to their corridors. I yank on Ron's robes from behind as everyone begins hurriedly filing out of the Main Hall.

"What's a lindworm?" I inquire reading his terrified expression. I'm hot on his trail, making sure to steer clear of the Slytherin house Prefect.

"It's a bloody hybrid; half dragon, half snake!" Ron squeamishly informs while keeping pace with the unhinged mob. Percy, the Gryffindor Prefect and eldest Weasley, promptly leads his house out of the Main Hall unaware that one Slytherin was in attendance.

"_What about_ _Hermione_?!" I hiss tightly gripping Ron's arm. "She must still be in the girls bathroom! We have to warn her."

His eyes widen at the realization as we promptly turn on our heels. I almost run face first into Malfoy. I almost had forgotten that he was beside me the whole time. His fiery blue eyes connect with mine as he ever so slowly raises an index finger pushing it against his lips.

The three of us gradually fall back in the crowd of Gryffindors while silently planning our escape. Once Percy turns the corner I yank Ron and Malfoy by their robes behind a large pillar. The two lightly grimace at one another until we're confidently out of earshot.

"Just what do you think you're doing, following us?" Ron jeers.

"Accompanying you blokes," Draco informs with narrowed eyes. "I'm seeking Hermione."

Ron and I quickly glance at each other in hushed agreement. If there was anyone else in the school willing to help us protect Hermione under any circumstance; it was Malfoy.

"Well.. Carry on then," Ron reluctantly responds folding his arms.

They intensely stare each other down exchanging a wordless (most likely temporary) truce.

Malfoy peeks from behind the pillar and motions us to follow. He promptly dashes off in the direction of the bathrooms. Ron and I swap one last look of uncertainty before nodding our heads and sprinting after him.


	17. Seeing Eye to Eye with the Hybrid

Ron throws his arms up in relief. "Oh _there you are Hermione_!"

Hermione turns from the mirror and spins on her heels with an incredulous look on her face. Her eyes dart between the three of us as she suspiciously zips up her makeup bag. The fact that Malfoy, Ron and myself were standing together peacefully visually throws her off.

Rightfully so.

She tries to read our panicked expressions. "What're you lot doing in the _girl's bathroom_?"

Malfoy takes an adamant step toward her with an arm extended. "There's a bloody _lindworm_ in the castle," he sternly advises. "Best get going, love."

"In the castle?" her voice squeaks. Her chest does a light heave as she places an agile hand covering her heart. "How can that be?"

"No time to wonder," Ron insists.

As we approach the exit, Ron halts in place and I nearly run into the back of him. "Why'd you stop walking?" I groan.

A sudden deafening shriek rattles the walls. It echoes throughout the tower and down the halls. Once I gain view from behind, I realize that we had been confronted by the wingless bipedal lindworm gliding down the hallway.

The enormous hybrid has the head of a snake and the spine of a dragon. It's easily the same height as the mutated three-headed dog we were faced with a few weeks prior. The lindworm's spike-rimmed tail violently swishes behind it as it targets us.

"Get back in the bathroom!" I shout.

The four of us rush inside before closing and locking the large doors shut. We plug our ears as it lets out another bellowing screech. The creature slams against the bolted entrance over and over. The double doors are bound to burst open at any moment with each forceful blow.

Well aware that the flimsy pieces of wood could only hold the mutant back for so long, we frantically scatter about the room and take cover. I end up separated from the rest with Hermione in one of the stalls.

Pieces of debris are sent flying as the lindworm successfully barges through the double doors. With another deafening roar, each light bulb shatters one by one until it's pitch black. We are constricted to our remaining senses in escaping the monster.

I'm aware that most snakes have terrible eyesight in general, but for some species it became even worse in the dark. I pray that the snake-like half of the hybrid was one of those species.

Within _seconds _my dominant eye abruptly alternates between ultraviolet, infrared and normal/sightless vision. It circulates one more cycle while dramatically slowing down. My eye continues to play a game of roulette before ultimately choosing an idealistic version of sight.

I'm able to see infrared radiation emanate across the room. I was given the ability to act strictly off the thermal heat of our bodies for vision. If the hybrid had nocturnal abilities, we would now be at par.

I gain sight of the impatient cold-blooded creature from above. I can only make out the shape of its engorged body; lacking any detail. The monster violently swerves back and forth. It's obvious that it has trouble scanning the room.

Its tongue erratically flickers in and out of its mouth using it to sniff us out. The wet flapping sound echoes throughout the lounge.

I discreetly advise Hermione to remain perfectly still. That doesn't seem to work, as the hybrid wildly swishes its head from side to side while nearing us. It opens its mouth exposing two massive fangs with drips of lethal venom trickling from both.

"Duck!" I holler hunching over her.

The lindworm maniacally lashes its head back and forth before using its upper body to horizontally slice the stalls cleanly in half. Rubble rains heavily upon us as Hermione screams out in pain. I can make out the shape of her body and she appears to be clutching her leg. The snake hybrid frustratingly pummels itself against the walls cracking the marble.

Amongst the deafening commotion, I use my hands to feel out a miscellaneous object covering Hermione's leg and shove it from off of her.

The crackling sound of a giant pillar crumbling erupts from behind us. Hermione shrieks as it collapses to the ground just _inches_ from us. My body lightly convulses as I try to remain strong minded.

After confirming that she wasn't seriously injured, I calmly rub both sides of her arms. "Stay here, and stay _low._ You'll be hidden well. I can see everything," I inform while peering across the pitch-black lounge.

"What do you bloody _mean _you can see everything?!" she pleads. "It's pitch dark!"

"Just trust me," I scramble. We fiercely banter back and forth until I reassure that I have the same visual benefit, if not better, as the lindworm.

I emerge from beneath the rubble and blindly stumble my way across a mountain of debris. The darkness dramatically delays the creature's actions as well. I notice that it has trouble detecting my body heat; seeing as I'm currently sticking out like a sore thumb directly in front of it.

I aimlessly run my hands along a massive smooth ovular object. Once I gain balance I hop and crawl over the pillar that almost squashed us like bugs.

I heavily sigh in relief once I locate Ron and Malfoy unharmed. The shape of their bodies exude a mixture of neon yellow, orange and red radiation. They remain sturdy in place on their hands and knees. Based off their positioning, I make an educated guess that they were hidden beneath a row of sinks.

I hear Ron whisper, "_Lumos_". The tip of his wand acts like a mini light bulb, illuminating his immediate surroundings.. including Malfoy.

"_Put your wand away._" Malfoy demands." Are you trying to get us killed _faster_, you _daft _peasant?"

The beast roars and sloppily directs its head toward them.

Ron covers the end of his wand. "I was _planning _on using you as a distraction. Who here votes to use Malfoy as a human sacrifice?" He raises his own hand hitting the underside of the sink.

I am astounded that the Gryffindor and Slytherin were still at each other's throats even in the face of death. That took commitment.

I turn my attention from my distracting/idiotic mates and zone in on the monster towering over us. A familiar intoxicating surge of adrenaline electrifies through my body. I maintain pristine view of the hybrid which appears to be struggling. Remaining perfectly still, I look back to the blokes surrounding me.

"_Hey_!" I whisper so they know I was nearby.

"Well _now _what do we do, Harry?!" Ron whines.

I'd have more time to come up with an answer if he hadn't just exposed their _exact_ bloody location.

"I know of a spell my father taught me," Malfoy informs neglecting to lower his voice. "Dark magic. It's one of the unforgivable curses, but I _refuse_ to die next to a _Weasley_." He tilts his body forward before whipping out his wand and using it as a flash light. "_Lumos_ _Maxima_."

"I was only joking mate!" Ron turns to him. "Wasn't expecting you to actually follow through with the death wish!"

"Have you gone mad?!" I ridicule as the walls vibrate with another roar.

"_Shut up_, Potter I know what I'm doing." Within the blink of an eye, Malfoy speedily expels himself from beneath the sink and comes toe to toe with the hybrid.

"_No_!" Hermione sobs from the floor, blinded by the darkness. "Draco, you can't! Harry _stop him_!"

He straightens a trembling arm directly in front of him. His wand is firmly grasped in the other hand, illuminating a small circle around him. He arches his wand above his head.

Time was limited and if I didn't do something soon, my daft roommate would end up committing one of the unforgivable curses and get himself locked up in Azkaban. This wasn't necessary as I was confident that I could reason with the mutant serpent. 

With one swift movement, I slide the wand from my back pocket and briskly flick my wrist toward Malfoy. "_Everte Statum_!"

The charm instantly ejects him and his wand several feet from the creature. His body flies across the room and ultimately slams up against a wall. He loudly gasps for air while gripping his chest.

The lindworm shrieks in excitement as I had essentially just weakened its prey. Bloody hell, I hadn't thought that far.

The beast extends its neck to full capacity and exposes its fangs. In a similar motion to the snake that attacked Sean during my lacrosse game, the creature sporadically sways its head to and fro. Its tongue wildly flickers as it becomes uncomfortably close to Malfoy.

I emerge from behind the rubble. "STOP!" I fearlessly direct the snake-like dragon's attention onto me. The lindworm abruptly halts in place while sniffing out where my voice had come from. "_Lumos_." I use the tip of my wand as a bright beam of light and courageously center it upon myself. "I'm _right here_."

An intimidating gurgling noise emerges from its throat. I gulp as I take a few steps back, stumbling over a piece of concrete. I then direct my wand toward the general area of an ample glass stained window to my right.

"Leave through that window, and head straight for the forbidden forest," I instruct. "You won't be harmed, and you can go on your way."

The lindworm responds with some sort of guttural grunt, somewhat like a sigh, while passively lowering its head.

I quickly glance between the three surrounding me while using my wand as a spotlight. Malfoy's against the wall, Ron's under the sink and Hermione's beneath a small pile of rubble. For some reason, the shocked expressions on their faces now appear to be directed at _me _instead of the monster_._ Ron and Hermione's mouths lightly hang open and Malfoy's eyebrows are lowered.

I turn my attention back to the lindworm. I lower my wand after turning its flashlight abilities off. My surroundings flood with darkness with the exception of the multicolored bodies encircling me. I flinch as the lindworm expeditiously lowers its head toward me; I can feel its tongue shuddering just inches from me.

"I don't want to hurt you," I continue. "But if you don't obey me, I _will_ kill you_._" It gradually nods its head in compliance with another grumbling sigh.

A distinctive voice suddenly appears from behind the monster. "_Vipera Evanesca_." A flash of yellow light shoots across the room, directly hitting the hybrid. The lindworm instantly screams out in torture as it slowly dissolves. It eventually evaporates into thin air.

Professor Snape puts his wand away before picking up two lanterns held close to his face. His eyes closely observe our obliterated surroundings. "_Negotiating_ with a serpent hybrid is of _no use_, Mr. Potter," he lectures nearing my side.

I breathe heavily looking down at my shaky hands. "You didn't have to kill it," I plead. "It was listening to me. I had it-"

"Would you _prefer_ your little friends be _killed_ over your _ego _instead?" he sneers.

I decide to forfeit from the pending argument with the Potions professor.

Utilizing the same standard spell, a ball of light appears from the tip of his wand. He individually points it toward each of us while temporarily blinding us with foreign brightness. "What has happened here today shall _not _be discussed with your fellow students, _nor_ your professors. Do I make myself clear?"

Snape acting dodgy, _like always,_ was a minuscule concern in comparison to the colossal encounter we had just experienced. So, we mindlessly nod our heads in unison.

The professor glides toward Malfoy and picks him up by the back of his robes. "And _you. _You'll be coming with me." Draco's head hangs low rubbing the back of his neck as he follows on his tail.

Despite leaving three other potentially injured and traumatized students behind, Snape was _nice enough_ to leave me with his extra lantern.

Ron trips over the hill of rubble making his way toward myself and Hermione. "Well that was scary," he states the obvious.

"At least we weren't eaten alive," Hermione responds tossing a few pieces of rubble from her lap.

"Bloody _hell_." Ron blinks with his mouth agape. "Do you really think Snape fancies human flesh?!"

I roll my eyes as a light smile crosses my lips for the first time today.

Holding the lantern close, Ron and I help Hermione to her feet and inspect the injury on her leg. She was lucky to have only sustained a few minor cuts and bruises.

"Harry, how could you not tell us you were a parselmouth?!" Ron asks in dismay as we wobble over another large pile of debris.

I furrow my eyebrows. "A what?"

"Not now, Ron." Hermione sighs using his shoulders from behind for balance. "I think we've endured enough for one day."

We finally reach the exit where our eyes are blessed with artificial lighting throughout the halls. You could hear a pin drop in the castle. Presumably, Snape advised the professors that _he_ had the lindworm handled.

I never understood why the headmaster had so much trust in him..

"Thank you for coming to rescue me," Hermione says giving Ron a hug.

"Anytime, Hermione." Ron points a thumb my way. "Seeing as Harry over here is bloody useless, and all."

She smiles smacking the back of her hand against his chest and turns to me. "And thank you, Harry."

My limbs are still lightly shaking. "Don't mention it," my voice squeaks.


	18. The Game of Truce

**One Week Later**

Everyone eagerly dives into our evening feast. I glare at the vacant plate staring back at me while my stomach rumbles. Sharp pains extend across my abdomen, yet I can't bring myself to eat.

"Go on, Harry," Ron encourages. He gapes at me across from the Gryffindor table while holding a half-eaten turkey leg. "You'll need your strength for the game."

"Don't remind me," I grumble.

Tomorrow was our first quidditch match of the year against Gryffindor. Flint had been working us into the ground in preparation for the big game. We had practice every single day for the last seven days straight. Practice generally consisted of a series of drills; each specific to a different set of skills. We endured a brutal compilation of agility, control, and reaction time exercises.

Training as a seeker was admittedly harder than expected. There was greater depth to the position than simply finding and catching a shiny floating ball.

Ginny and I found time around classes to practice on the pitch, and we competed in several impromptu races for the snitch. I had an approximate 75% success rate and that seemed to impress the Gryffindor team captain. However, the strategy and intensity of quidditch was drastically different from the game of lacrosse. This brought upon a high level of anxiety that I pray will magically vanish once I'm in the air tomorrow.

"Oi, Potter!" George joins the conversation from a few seats down. "You're bumming me out, mate. I think you could use a night out with the lads. What do you lot say?" Neville and Dean delightedly nod their heads in elated anticipation from across the table.

A 'night out with the lads' usually consisted of getting pissed in an inconspicuous area, followed by some drunken competition, and ultimately resulted in someone getting hurt.

"I'm not in the mood."

"You are _so _bloody depressing, you know that?" The other Weasley twin plops on the bench beside me squeezing my right shoulder. "So you have an all-important quidditch game tomorrow against a bunch of lads who have _years_ of experience in comparison.." He shrugs his shoulders. "Big deal; nothing to be anxious over."

After a few moments of banter, I finally cave in and decide to go out. When it came to an army of incessant, stubborn, relentless Weasleys.. I didn't stand a bloody chance.

The Gryffindors allow 10 minutes for myself to grab a jacket and feed my owl before we head out.

I enter my room, greeted by Hedwig with a series of excited shrill chirps. I unlock her cage so she can prep for her nightly flight. As I push the window up, the door kicks open.

I turn to find Malfoy in the doorway. He firmly grips two peculiarly beautiful broomsticks in each hand. The compact contraptions are sleek black with a composition that's straight as a board. He mutely hands one over as I shift the weight of the heavy wooden broomstick into both hands. My eyes curiously flicker to my roommate as I admire the polished finish.

"The _Nimbus 2020_," he outwardly admires. "Not even in stores yet."

"Christmas isn't for another couple weeks, but thanks." I joke, ogling over the unexpected gift.

"Don't thank me. They're from Snape." Malfoy gently spins his on its tail end before adding, "He gifted us for the match tomorrow."

"Wait- _Snape_?" My attention diverts from the ebony beauty in hand. "Our potions teacher? Head of Slytherin?.. Bane of my existence?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "Your pride makes this irritatingly burdensome, Potter. Snape's merely a proud Slytherin; as it _should_ be."

I couldn't believe it.

A ritual banter had been indefinitely formed between myself and the Potions professor. He would bark at me at the Gryffindor table, or in Potions class, and I'd be defiant in return. And ever since the dodgy lindworm incident, my tolerance for his behavior had come to an all-time low.

Needless to say, we didn't get along very well.

And yet, he decided to gift me a magnificent broom?

I raise both eyebrows in apprehensive agreement and cradle my newfound possession in deep thought. As crazy as it sounded, maybe my roommate was right. Maybe Snape was just a misunderstood, crabby Slytherin. There tended to be loads of us, after all.

I leave Hedwig's dinner for upon her return and throw on my jacket. Once I reach the door, my hand wavers nearing the knob. "Hey, Malfoy." I pull in a sharp breath turning to him. He's reclined on his bed, rigidly spinning the Nimbus 2020 above his body. "We're uh.. A few of the guys are headed to the Forbidden Forrest for a few drinks. You should come."

"Who's 'we', Potter?" he drawls with a smug expression while setting the prized possession to his side. "The Weasleys? Your best mates from _Gryffindor_?"

I had neglected the merciless rivalry between the two dignified wizarding families. It also didn't help that a 'proud Slytherin' such as himself would never be caught dead befriending a Gryffindor.

With the exception of an incredibly witty Gryffindor named Hermione Granger, of course.

* * *

We sit in a circle around a roaring fire just on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forrest. The bone chilling breeze blasts our hair in the wind and whirls tiny cyclones of leaves across campus. I'm accompanied by the Weasleys, Dean, Neville and Hagrid. We're bundled in layers of blankets sipping on warm, vodka infused butter beer.

Fred positions himself before the fire commanding our attention. "Alright you lot." His shoulders are firmly held back with fists planted on his hips. "Seeing as we have someone in attendance from the Muggle world- attendee.. please raise your hand."

The prolonged silence elevates the noise of thousands of crickets surrounding us. Fred loudly clears his throat tilting his head toward me. "_Attendee_, please raise your hand," he repeats. I cover my face with one hand while sluggishly raising the other. "_Thank you_ attendee. Now who's in for a round of Muggle's Truth or Dare?"

"We are!" Dean giddily replies gesturing between himself and Neville.

"You forced me out here.. the night before our first game.. in this arctic weather.. to play bloody Truth or Dare?" I complain drawing the blankets closer to my neck.

"Truth er dare always leads to nothin' good," Hagrid adds lifting his drink in agreement. "Didn' gettin' caught by Filch in yer skivvies teach ya nothin'?"

"Pipe down Hagrid." Fred uses a hand to hush him while keeping his focus on me. "Truth or dare, Harry?"

"Dare."

"I _dare you_ to turn yourself into a bat."

Everyone excitedly slants their chairs forward waiting for my reaction. I whip my head back with a melodramatic groan as I sink lower in my seat. "Sorry, Fred.. Haven't learned that charm yet."

"No need to apologize mate," George interjects. "That's what _we're _here for." He fluidly fetches the concealed wand from beneath his blanket.

My eyes pop wide open as I grasp the arms of my chair. I'm positioned to make a run for it, but there simply was _no such thing_ as out running magic. George readily directs his wand at me wildly snickering.

"_Levicorpus_."

A hidden force aggressively grips my ankles and yanks me from my seat above the ground. I hang upside down in mid-air just inches above the grass. An invisible piece of sturdy rope ties my feet together, and I'm completely immobile.

"Alright, you win." I swish my arms from side to side mirroring the nocturnal creature. The blokes beneath me cackle maniacally at my expense as the blood rushes to my head.

I should have known better than to get mouthy with the notorious pranksters..

"Okay, Hagrid. Your turn," Ron announces. He finishes his beer holding up a finger before completing his statement. "Truth or dare?"

"Err, I'm not too sher.." Hagrid scratches his fluffy beard in deep thought. "Err.."

"_Truth_," Ron decides for him. "Brilliant!" He confidently strides back and forth, mentally preparing the pending interrogation on the groundskeeper. "Tell me Hagrid.." Our colossal friend takes a pull from his flask keeping an uneasy eye on the prosecutor. "What _exactly_ was the point of Professor Snape unleashing a lindworm into the castle? Aside from trying to kill us, of course."

"Err.. Snape didn't let out no lindworm." Hagrid chuckles followed by a bellowing burp. "An' that isn't a yes 'er no question now, is it?"

"He's right," Neville agrees.

"Guys," I interject from above feeling faint. "Let me down." Well aware that I won't be spared off sheer mercy, I quickly come up with a 'reasonable' excuse. "I can't drink upside down."

"Fair enough." Fred keeps his back turned to me, his wand directed behind him. "_Liberacorpus_."

I come crashing to the ground, lucky to of not snapped my neck in half. I let out an embarrassed chuckle while bringing myself to my knees.

Making sure to keep the interrogation on course, I sneak back to my seat before saying, "So even _if _Snape had nothing to do with the lindworm.. How about the _other _unsightly, three-headed, mutated creature on the third floor?"

"Now watch who yer callin' ugly there, Harry," Hagrid reprimands pointing a chubby finger my way. "Fluffy's mine. I bought 'em off an Irish fellar down at the pub last year."

"Of course _y__ou_ have a hand in that monster's existence, Hagrid," Ron protests handing me a freshly conjured batch of butter beer.

"Well o'course! Then I lent 'em to Dumbledore to guard the-" Hagrid's eyes widen before drawing the bottle of whiskey to his lips.

"To guard the...?" I revolve my hands encouraging him to continue.

"I shouldn't have said that." He preoccupies his throat with alcohol incapacitating his ability to speak.

"Does this have to do with.." I rack my brain searching for the name tied to vault 713. ".. Nicolai Flannel?"

"Yeh mean Nicholas Flamel," Hagrid corrects with a raised finger. Ron and I shoot each other a glance before our giant friend booms, "No more questions! Don't ask no more questions! I'm drunk an' you lot are takin' advantage o' me!"

"But Hagrid," I adamantly insist. "Snape wants to get his hands on whatever Fluffy's hiding. It's obvious he used the lindworm as a diversion. Why else would he demand our secrecy?"

"Now yeh listen to me." Hagrid rises to his feet with a hand spread across his belly. "All five of yeh," he adds pointing at us separately. "Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher. I'll hear no more of it."

"Is that Filch?" George interrupts peering over my shoulder. "Looks as though he's cutting us off early tonight, lads."

We tensely watch the stiff, obscure figure make its way toward us. It doesn't take long to recognize the easily identifiable blonde. I can't tell if I'm in more shock over the fact that he actually came, or the fact that he's wearing a casual zip up and jeans.

"Blimey, is that Malfoy?!" Dean exclaims leaning forward in his seat.

Ron is quick to his feet in full preparation to fend off his territory. He habitually puffs out his chest in the presence of his enemy. "I don't believe _you _were invited."

Malfoy ignores him and silently takes a seat on the tree stump beside me.

"I invited him." I glance to my roommate. "I think a fresh start is in order. Between _all of us._"

Ron scowls at me as if I'd just stomped his pet rat to death. "A truce? With Malfoy?! That's not possible," he insists. "Our families have been at war for.. well.. for a bloody long time!"

Malfoy blankly stares back at him unphased. "Well I'm here, aren't I?" His arms cross as he calmly sways his shoulders from side to side. "It's a start."

I'm impressed with the severe sense of control over his temper. I could learn a thing or two from him.

"Welp.. I best be goin'." Hagrid timidly reports from the sidelines. "Err.. yeh won't be tellin' yer father about this now, will yeh Malfoy?" He shoves the fifth of whiskey under his armpit for safe keeping. "Or, err.. Professor Snape?"

"What's the good in doing that, you buffoon?" he shoots back. "Do you _really_ think either would be pleased to know that I snuck out to be around a group of _Weasleys_?"

Hagrid quickly tilts his head to the side in agreement before stealthily creeping away.

"Finally run out of friends then, have you?" Fred taunts walking toward us. "Can't say I'm surprised.."

I kneel toward the cauldron adjacent to us and pour Malfoy a butter beer. "He hasn't run out of friends; I'm his friend," I defend. "And if you guys pulled your head out of your arses, maybe you'd realize he's a valuable one to have around."

I peer at my roommate from my peripheral. The corners of his lips are risen, and it's the first time I've seen anything brighter than a smirk on his face.

"I _am_ valuable. For starters.." Malfoy grimaces, holding the donated butter beer at arm's length. He swings the backpack from around his shoulder. "I fancy beer that _doesn't_ taste of laundry water." The contents of his backpack clatter as he individually plants each IPA on the dirt before him.

"_Bloody hell. _Are those the limited edition, pumpkin juice, toad wart, cinnamon spice, nutmeg infused brews?!" The twins gravitate toward the anomalies like moths to a flame. "Those are easily 30 sickles apiece," George adds.

"That's right." Malfoy effortlessly taps his wand against the beer cap before it launches out of sight. He then places the bottle in my hand before opening his own. I smirk, peering at the see-through vial containing a thick green carbonated liquid. The black label has a detailed drawing of a lime-green snake wrapped around what appears to be a severed human head.

It reads _Mugglehead IPA _with the crest of Slytherin beneath it.

Fred and George hastily grab a few beers with his silent permission. Ron subsequently inches near his arch nemesis.

"W-wait Ron," Neville stutters throwing a rigid arm in front of him. He wrings his hands looking to his housemates. "Are you really going to drink a Slytherin based beer? Who _knows_ what could happen.."

"Quit being a pansy, Neville. They're not going to turn us into snakes on the spot," Fred scoffs before squeamishly looking to Malfoy. "... Right?"

Malfoy kicks up his feet, perching them against the Gryffindor's chair. "It's impossible to recall which ones have been tampered with. Guess you'll have to find out for yourself," he replies clinking his beer against mine.


	19. Quidditch Match: Slytherin vs Gryffindor

I'm fully prepared in uniform with my equipment sporadically encircled around me. My thighs shake like leaves against the bench. I couldn't stop my left foot from tapping the ground if my life depended on it.

The rest of my team is already on the field. The taunting roar of the crowd echoes throughout the vacant locker room.

Naturally, my nerves are getting the best of me as they always did before a big game. Mentally preparing for the first quidditch match, however, is the most unnerving experience I've ever experienced.

As I finally force myself to exit the locker room, I almost run face first into Ginny. The Gryffindor team captain sucks in a few needed breaths while placing her hands on her knees. Her ponytail swishes around the side of her neck as she plants both gloved fists on her hips.

"Ginny," I say faintly. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course." Her eyebrows lower. "Marcus told me you were in here; hiding."

"I am _not _hiding," I insist. I roll my eyes at myself. "Well.. I was on my way out, wasn't I?"

The skittish expression that's plastered across my face isn't too convincing.

Ginny squares my shoulders toward her and shakes my upper body. "Snap out of it, Harry. You've had an incredible success rate, _even against me_; the Queen of quidditch." She lightly smirks as her eyes erratically search my face. "You conquered a bloody lindworm!" she adds with a bewildered smile. "Surely you can fly around for an hour."

"You got me there," I reply with a forced smile. "Why're you doing this? Being so.. _nice._ We aren't on the same team.."

"Are we not?" she shoots back full of sarcasm. "_Because_ I believe in you, Potter. I'm not going to let your nerves get to you." A high-pitched whistle pierces our ears. "Now get your arse on the pitch already!"

I extract a sharp breath, a small smile appearing on my face, before following orders. Daunting cheers electrify through my body as I join the rest of my team.

I approach Malfoy's side who unsurprisingly appears calm and collected. We silently bump forearms with a quick nod. Flint paces back and forth, intertwining himself through our team for one last inspection.

"Alright you lot!" Flint announces, positioning himself front and center. He points to his chaser colleagues. "Remember, don't hog the quaffle. We need _movement_ out there!" His finger trails to the beaters next. "Keep heavy defense on the Weasleys," he adds as his focus continues down the line. "No use of magic or jinxes in the air.." The upperclassmen lazily nod their heads, paying half attention to the preamble they've heard a million times over.

"Potter, stay on Wood's tail.. And finally; Bletchley.." Flint sighs while pointing to our keeper. "Just don't let the bloody quaffle get through our goal, alright mate?" The team shoots each other eager excited looks, bouncing around as our adrenaline builds. "Let's go kick Gryffindors arse!"

A second, unnecessarily high-pitched whistle ricochets across the field. I use my forearm as a shield between myself and the bright morning sun. Each bleacher is filled to capacity with housemates decked out in their respective color. Even though I practiced on the grassland daily, it appears tremendously bigger occupying the four houses.

The commentator projects her voice across the field speaking into her wand. She announces each team and telecasts the basic rules of the game.

We readily mount our brooms waiting for the third, shrill whistle. Everyone's cheers of excitement rattle my chest. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants transitioning my broom into the other hand.

The third whistle sounds, and I lean my body weight toward the front of the sturdy ebony stick. I have a smooth and steady incline once my feet leave the ground. Practicing my arse off certainly had its benefits, and learning how to master my broom was one of them.

I peer across the way once we reach playing level. Fred and George idiotically wave their hands at me, and I notice Malfoy shake his head at them out of my peripheral. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor seeker, idly hovers opposite of me. We hastily shoot each other a quick nod.

A final, deafening whistle signals the beginning of the match.

Slytherin is in possession of the quaffle based off a random draw. The bludgers instantly take off on their own spastic route. My team mates shoot past me, heavy on offense.

I levitate above a fifth tower which holds the professors and the headmaster. Scanning the crowd beneath me, I identify Professor Snape sitting adjacent to Dumbledore. Snape's beady eyes are stuck to me like glue as expected.

My ears perk once the speakers boom:

_Flint speeds through the defense and takes a spinning shot towards the left hoop.. And Cormac takes a flying dive to block the pass! Brilliant save by Gryffindor!_

The audience howls in elation.

_The quaffle is passed to Angelina Johnson, beginning her first play of the match. She makes her way to the midpoint of the pitch. Fantastic offensive play as Angelina passes to Katie Bell- OH! And I spoke too soon.. Draco Malfoy intercepts the pass and Slytherin is back in possession! _

The crowd silences.

I make my way toward the mid-line, intrigued by my roommate's confident and aggressive game play. The impressive tenacity keeps him mainly on the opposing side, boldly taking shot after shot.

_And Draco darts toward the Gryffindor post, going for the- My goodness! Fred interferes with a fluid play, smacking the bludger to his twin, nearly hitting Draco. He dodges the bludger, only by inches, and Slytherin loses ownership of the quaffle!_

The masses go wild.

_Finally, both of the Weasleys are keeping their eye on the freshman chaser. Good.. and delayed, strategy by Gryffindor. _

I'm torn from the intense showdown as I hear a familiar buzzing sound. The shiny, beautiful, _pain in the arse_ golden snitch comes soaring my way. I direct my broom toward the prize to be won and speedily propel after it.

_It looks as though Harry Potter has gained sight of the snitch, just as Flint reclaims possession.. We may have a quick match today, folks!_

And that's when the 'boo's start from below.

Over the hum of the melodic whistling snitch, I hear the thunderous boom of Oliver's broomstick headed straight for me.

Extremely early on in the game, Wood and I initiate the race toward the game finisher.

_Oliver catches up to Harry, hot on his tail. Uh oh! It looks as though Harry doesn't see the-_

"Watch out!" Marcus shouts from behind me, holding the quaffle, as a trail of Gryffindors jet behind him.

I duck at the very last second, and avoid being beheaded by a rogue bludger.

_And Harry barely dodges the bludger. Rookie move by Slytherin; you have to keep your head on a swivel out there! _

Momentarily spiraling downward, I yank the broom stick toward myself and shift my body weight back. I eagerly resume my pursuit once I regain balance. Picking up speed, I rapidly ascend toward Wood and the snitch.

We follow the metallic ball's journey while carefully interweaving between players.

_Flint maintains possession of the quaffle, and pans the pitch for his teammates. Slytherin lacks in backup as George and Fred target the veteran team captain! They keeps their eyes peeled for the closest bludger to knock him off his game.._

I spot one of the bludgers that they were lacking to find.. and it's headed straight for _me_. Prompting a swift acceleration, I manage to fly over yet another dense wooden ball.

_Impressive move by Flint as he rockets into the sky, hopeful to shake the seasoned beaters. But no luck so far.. Blimey! And Draco nears his side; wide open. Beautiful pass! It looks as though Flint gives his fellow Slytherin the perfect set up to- _

**DING!**

The buzzer sounds, and I glance behind me at the Gryffindor goal. Cormac has a hissy fit in midair, hovering in front of the furthest right hoop that had just been penetrated.

_AND DRACO MALFOY MAKES THE FIRST SCORE OF THE YEAR FOR SLYTHERIN! What a play by the first-year chaser! Better take notes, Gryffindor._

I make a fist excitedly moving it about. We're only minutes into the game, and we're already _destroying_ our opponent.

All I had to do was close the deal for my team. The spotlight was on me and it was my time to shine.

Suddenly, I feel the Nimbus 2020's power weaken between my fingers. I can no longer ascend, and I'm expeditiously sputtering out of gas. The amount of force I use to pull upward is rendered useless. The more I resist, the faster I decline.

The magic had been savagely stripped from my broom and no longer holds the ability to defy gravity.

I swallow a hefty mouthful of air as I squint at the ground stories beneath me. The crowd mirrors a swarm of fitful ants from my current perspective.

I whimper, bracing for the inevitable. The initial fluid descent is compromised as the velocity of my fall picks up momentum. I hold on for dear life and squeeze my eyes shut as I free fall from the sky. My broom immediately nose dives, plummeting straight to the ground at a 90-degree angle.

No matter which way I spastically jerk it around, the Nimbus 2020 defiantly continues an uncontrollable plunge. Screams are heard from below as the school watches my hopeless attempts to regain power over the broom.

My life is in serious danger, and there isn't a single thing I can do other than accept the fact that I'm about to crash.

The terrain is nearing closer and closer, and I'm seconds from death.

Using every ounce of strength left in my body, I give one last aggressive yank. The resistance alleviates as my Nimbus 2020 smoothly pumps the breaks. With only seconds left to spare, I rectify myself parallel to the ground and refrain from catapulting straight into the grass.

I use my trembling arms to align myself once my equilibrium is revived. The entirety of my body is shivering from head to toe. My numbed hands retain their tight grip as I gradually hover in circles.

It was obvious that my broom had been tampered with by the spiteful benefactor of my Nimbus 2020. But I'm back in control, and the game isn't over yet. I'm nauseous, dizzy, terrified, and _pissed._

Despite avoiding my close call, the audience remains frantic. I turn to find that a row on the fifth tower is on fire. Professors frenziedly disperse across the bleachers outrunning the flames. The fire is eventually stomped out, and I do my best to regain focus.

Leaning back, I speedily ascend to the desired elevation. From there I seek Oliver who levitates in place. The snitch was still at large, and I was _going _to capture it..

.. Even if it required enduring another 90-degree free fall.

Wood suddenly blasts off in the opposite direction, signaling that a particular winged ball had grabbed his attention. No longer distracted by my plummet of death, I hear the telecaster announce:

_And Oliver is close on the snitch! Harry makes his way across the field after regaining control of his broom. It's anyone's game with Slytherin back in the race for the golden snitch!_

The ever-fluctuating audience excitedly howls in applause. As I fly past the Gryffindors, I get heckled with resounding 'boo's thrown my way. "_Conquer Potter! Conquer Potter!_"

This only fuels my fire. I'm hell bent, and I'll do virtually anything to catch that bloody snitch.

Wood flies past and leads us beneath the Gryffindor bleachers. The scarlet and gold banners shudder in the breeze as the wind howls through the enclosed area. I'm gaining traction and avoiding all physical barriers.

Once the timing is right, I purposefully falter beneath a row of pillars out of Wood's sight.

I trail within a safe distance so as to not lose momentum. Leaning all the way forward, I plateau my body against the Nimbus 2020 in midair. I momentarily free my hands and remove the concealed wand from my right glove.

I dodge another plank and pick up speed. The second I gain sight of his maroon robes, I urgently aim my wand at Oliver.

"_CONFUNDO_!"

A surge of energy crackles from the tip of my wand and successfully hits my target with ease.

Oliver is immediately shoved to the side and spun 180 degrees. He glares back at me thoroughly perplexed, as though he had completely forgotten where he was, or what his name was.

I take my chance, and speed past him going in for the kill.


	20. My Vengeful Right Eye

Mutually exhausted from the game earlier that day, Malfoy and I tiredly stumble down the stairs to the Slytherin common room. Our ominous emerald lounge is filled with students from each house.

A blinding spotlight suddenly projects from the ceiling. Malfoy stealthily moves to the side out of view with a cunning smirk directed at me. I heavily curse at him under my breath as the attention was now fully centered upon myself.

"Gather 'round, ladies and gentleman!"

I shield the blaring light with my hand, glancing to Ginny who's using her wand as a microphone. She stands beside Flint, Slytherin's team captain, who appears to be just as uncomfortable as I am in the moment; rolling his eyes and smacking his teeth with his tongue.

Ginny's wearing a skin tight burgundy dress, and her disheveled hair gives off a sexy fresh out of bed look. She throws an arm around my shoulders. "As Gryffindor's team captain, I'm humbled to present Slytherin's star athlete of the day: HARRY POTTER!"

Flint begrudgingly raises his drink at eye level and tilts it toward me. Ginny excitedly bounces on the balls of her feet while clapping her hands together.

My stomach churns.

'Slytherin's star athlete' was coined off false pretense. If I hadn't cast the Confundus charm to disable Wood, we would most likely be standing in the Gryffindor common room right now and Ginny would be praising Oliver.

My concerning performance during the match was uncharacteristic and frankly distressing. Moments before ending the game, there was no two ways about it; I was going to catch that bloody snitch no matter the consequence.

However, it simply wasn't like myself to cheat or cut corners to my benefit. In the Muggle world, my pride innately restricted the idea of _ever_ winning a lacrosse game based off sheer fraudulence.

"_Potter_! _Potter_!" Everyone, even the Gryffindors, chant my name as I guiltily raise a hand briefly.

A hurdling wave of anxiety crashes over me. My chest cramps up, and I'm prompted to consciously keep count of my breaths in slow increments. The glaring light lowers as I grab the Gryffindor team captain's wrist and pull us to the side. "Ginny, wait."

She crosses her arms with her head cocked to the side. "Uhh, yeah?"

"Isn't this a little over the top?" I nervously chuckle, pointing to the paper cut-outs of my face levitating in circular motions around the room.

"_Oh please_," she cuts me off with the flick of her wrist. "Why do you always get so nervous at parties? You won the bloody game. Enjoy it."

Prioritizing focus on a steady oxygen flow, I leave her side unannounced. As I guide myself to the side of the room, Ginny mingles with her team while her eyes follow me. Occupying a lone chair against the wall, I purposefully distance myself from the others.

I vacantly watch everyone cheerfully dance and mingle as I reflect back to the end of the game.

* * *

**Five Hours Earlier**

"_CONFUNDO_!"

I reluctantly slip the wand back into the crevice of my glove before blasting past my opponent. An overpowering wave of turmoil paralyzes my brain while my body remains mobile.

The crackle of Wood's broom snapping in half echoes from beneath the Gryffindor bleachers. I yearn to turn my head so as to make sure he isn't seriously injured, yet I selfishly neglect the desperate yelps from behind.

I'm guided from beneath the sector and bolt upwards. The opposing house silences in realization that I had solely survived the jungle gym beneath the arena.

I uncontrollably snicker, leaving my disabled opponent behind. Soon thereafter, my right eye abnormally transforms and I black out.

Seconds later I come to, and my crippled coordination remains. I'm still unable to move my broom in the desired direction, and it's in this fateful moment that I accept I'm no longer in control of my actions in the game.

The heavy distraction causes my broom to falter, but I quickly regain balance. An all-consuming emphasis on the necessity to win rejuvenates as I pursue the one-sided race. The snitch darts toward the lower-middle field leaving minimal barriers. My knuckles whiten as I sturdily blast off.

_And Potter is hot on the snitches tail as Wood has yet to emerge from the Gryffindor tower! Must have been a giant plank of wood to stop Wood in his tracks.. pun intended._

The snitch dashes across the pitch within arm's reach. With one last force of acceleration, I extend my left hand as far ahead as possible. Most of my upper body is detached from the broom, and I'm heavily relying on my other arm for accurate balance. My right-hand struggles to hold most of my body weight causing the broom to waver.

Fully aware that I'm involuntarily tilting at a dangerous angle, my right arm finally gives out. I'm launched from the broom as my left hand gratifyingly captures the metallic ball. I forcefully crash against the ground, tumbling and skidding across the dirt.

The vibrating wings flutter between my fingers as fast as my heart. A high-pitched chime ricochets across the field signaling the end of the game.

_HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE GOLDEN SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS!_

There's an uproar in the crowd as I listlessly lay flat against the grass. I hold the snitch against my heaving chest with eyes squeezed shut, and a vindictive grin plastered across my face. The Slytherin tower erupts in boisterous cheer while my team periodically descends.

I squint with one eye opened and use both languid arms to heave myself upright. Although the game was over, the physically controlling phenomenon hadn't subsided. The inward battle between sheer panic and an immense adrenaline high is psychologically crippling.

I'm thrown on my back as the rest of the team dog piles on top of me. The next thing I know, I'm hoisted on their shoulders in celebration.

"Congrats, Potter!" Ginny shouts at me, singled out in the sea of people.

I smile, one eye closed, and give her a wave.

My team carries me off the pitch while all houses rush the field. We comb through the students like salmon upstream as we head toward the Slytherin locker room.

Once on my feet, I keep my right eye closed. I continue my destination amongst the chaos as I find two familiar Gryffindors walking against oncoming traffic.

"Bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaims in bewilderment. His smile drops once he looks behind me. "It's going to grow a bit challenging rooting for both teams now, isn't it?" Without saying another word he walks past us in the direction of his sulking brothers; Fred resentfully shoving George on the shoulder.

Hermione gives me a perplexed look. "Is something wrong with your-"

"No. Just a piece of grass," I cut her off, tightly closing and casually rubbing my eye.

Fortunately and surprisingly, she doesn't entertain the topic any further. "You did it! You were fantastic!" She smiles pulling me in for a hug. As I hold her close she whispers, "_But we really must talk_. It's about.." After looking over both shoulders she leans toward my ear. "_Snape_."

"Yep.." I sigh, confidently tossing the Nimbus 2020 between both hands. ".. Yet _another_ failed attempt at killing me."

Hermione flicks a few locks of hair behind her shoulder. "Snape didn't fail, Harry. Rather, he was merely distracted." Slickly removing the wand from her robes, she flips it between each finger with a mischievous smirk.

I slowly nod with widened eyes. "Should I be concerned that you consider lighting the professors' tower on fire a 'mere distraction'?"

Hermione narrows her eyes at me before abruptly looking to her right. Our conversation is cut short as I lock eyes with Malfoy across the herd of people. His eyes slowly alternate between myself and his girlfriend. He tries to appear unphased, but I recognize the suppressed, irritated expression all too well.

Hermione glances at me before running to him. She excitedly bounces up and down pulling on the sides of his robes. He holds her in a tight embrace while she runs a hand through his sweaty bangs. It's the first time I realize Malfoy actually has teeth as he grins down at her.

* * *

**Present Time**

I have an out of body experience watching the party unfold before my eyes in fast motion.

I zone in on a guy approaching Ginny from behind and rubbing against her to the beat of the music. She instantly spins on her heels with furrowed brows and pursed lips. He whispers something in her ear while placing an undesired hand upon her hip. She irritably brushes it away, thoroughly disinterested by his advances.

Her hazel brown eyes brighten as they set on me across the room seated in the same, lonesome area. "What're you doing over here all alone?!" she hollers over the music shuffling her heels toward me. "There's no need to sulk."

I mutely glide both sweaty palms across my face. Seconds later, I wordlessly rush past her for the patio door feeling another wave of claustrophobia. The door swings open as goose bumps inundate the surface of my exposed skin. Subarctic gusts of wind blast my face and I take the opportunity to digest as much fresh air as possible.

My merciless right eye begins to sting.

It seemed as though it was defiant against the alleviation of my distressing symptoms. I let out a growl, using the lower portion of my palm to aggressively rub my demonic eye. I'm tempted to use my thumb and forefinger to gouge the troublesome eyeball right out of my bloody skull.

My menacing, cruel, _vengeful _snake-like eye.

The act of cheating was solely encouraged by the manipulative deformity. My body simply refused to comply with my brain once I was given the opportunity to strike my opponent. I helplessly watched on from the third person; mentally alert of my actions, with absolutely _zero_ control over my motor skills.

But above all, _blacking out_ as a result of uncontrollably casting the disabling spell against Wood is scaring me the most.

Temporarily chasing the daunting memory, I lean my elbows against the patio banister and interlock my fingers behind my head. Loud muffled cheers are heard from the crowded party inside.

I'm banged up, delirious, and brain dead. The relentless, hours on end, panic attack robs any ounce of remaining energy I had left. My wobbly knees lead my back against the wall behind me. The grainy concrete digs into my flesh as I slide to the floor.

Holding my knees against my forehead, I wrap my arms around both legs while unwelcome thoughts continue to plague my mind.

I would be an _idiot_ if I didn't acknowledge the fact that my dominant eye was inheriting a mind of its own, growing stronger by the day.

An indefinite hold had been put on my second meeting with Dumbledore. Exploring the reptilian commodity used to be of little interest to me despite his pleas. I foolishly believed that I possessed the power to control the unpredictable deformity. So, I conceitedly refused guidance.

And now, I'm left questioning whether it was actually _myself _refusing the help.

* * *

I hang over the banister gazing at a batch of barren trees swaying in the wind. I'm startled as the patio door suddenly flies open. A pair of hands cover my eyes from behind, and the very sensation of someone touching my deformity makes my skin crawl. Ginny giggles as I shake from her grasp.

"_Don't touch me_," I reflectively growl causing her to flinch.

She shoots me a death glare as her large glossy eyes scan my face.

"I'm-I'm sorry Ginny. I didn't mean that." Using heavy damage control, I outwardly offer both hands for her to grab. Apprehensively putting one foot in front of the other, she intertwines her fingers with mine and lightly smiles. Like the true athlete she is, she brushes the tense situation off and accepts my apology.

"_Tell me _what's going on," she suddenly demands with intense eye contact. The intimidating tone that I'm used to hearing only on the field is uncalled for, yet effective.

My guard slowly begins to fall. "I don't think now's the time to discuss it," I reply raising both eyebrows. "You're drunk."

"Just a little bit." She inches her thumb and index together before shooting me a glare. "Don't change the subject, Potter." I silently stare her down, stubbornly biting my tongue. She places an unexpected gentle hand upon my cheek, and a warm comforting sensation extends across my chest. "You can trust me." A light smile crosses her wine stained lips as I gradually nod my head in some sort of trance. "Do you want to go find somewhere and talk?"

"Yeah.. I'd like that."

It's the first time a girl's invited me to 'go somewhere and talk' with the hopes that we would, in fact, speak.


	21. Mischief on Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Hey guys! Quarantine has officially brought this story from out of hiatus. Please don't forget to comment or leave a kudos if you're still enjoying the story. It really motivates me to continue and bust the chapters out quicker. Any constructive criticism is of course welcome. Hope you're all staying safe during this crazy time!**

**Two Weeks Later**

It was the Christmas eve feast.

I sit beside Draco at the vacant Slytherin table while absent mindedly stabbing my roast beef with a fork. Peering across the Great Hall, my eyes solemnly fall upon the equally barren Gryffindor table.

I had been left in the absence of my friends for the holiday. The Weasleys were home with their family and so was Hermione. I decided to spend it with my mate Malfoy who didn't have a reason to return home since his father was tending to 'more important tasks' with the Ministry.

Still coming down from the high of the victorious match against Gryffindor, Malfoy hadn't shut up about it in weeks. Unbeknownst to him, I wasn't fully proud of our win due to my troubling behavior that won us the game.

Our match had been won based off false pretense, and I was left feeling guilty and apprehensive of what my manipulative eye was capable of.

I had opened up to Ginny regarding my eye following the afterparty and it is was tremendously alleviating. There was a certain softness to Ginny that perfectly contradicted her fierce, albeit bossy, character. I felt comfortable in opening up to her and I felt safe around her. This was something that I would never take for granted.

Not even my right eye could get in the way of our blossoming relationship.

Not if I could help it.

After filling up on candy apples, peppermint cakes and pumpkin pie Malfoy and I make our way back to the boys dormitory. A fire place roars in the corner illuminating our eerie yet charming common room.

Malfoy had gotten his hands on a bottle of firewhisky that we intended to save specially for tonight. He pours me a glass and I accept his offer while clinking my glass against his.

We both recline in the ridiculously comfortable sofa chairs in front of the fire. I'm entranced by the rhythmic movement of the flames as Malfoy speaks up.

"So why aren't you spending the holiday with your parents?"

"Because they lied to me about everything," I admit while curling one of my hands into a fist. "Christmas was always terrible anyway. They thought they could buy me their love, as if that would somehow erase my memories of the terrible rubbish they put me through as a child."

My eyebrows furrow as my eyes skeptically dart to Malfoy. I hadn't intended to share such a vulnerable statement with him, and I mentally kick myself in the arse for doing so. He continues to stare at the firepit, just as thoughtfully entranced in the flames as I was.

"I can relate," Malfoy confesses to my surprise. "Mother always showered me in lavish gifts, but that was never the problem of concern. I love gifts."

His statement doesn't surprise me in the least.

"However, now it's clear that my father has deemed his position at the Ministry to be more necessary than spending the holiday with his son."

"And your mother?"

"Don't worry, Potter," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll still wake up to loads of presents."

The corners of my lips rise as I roll my eyes at him.

"Cheers mate." I tilt my glass of firewhisky clinking glasses with him once more. "We'll give ourselves a proper Christmas."

* * *

I wake up the next morning to a pile of unexpected presents at the foot of my bed. Hedwig must have had one hell of a night carrying all of the precious cargo.

Malfoy sits across from me propped up in his bed. As promised, a stack of gifts in quadruple the amount of mine sits in his lap. He rips through them like an eager child while tearing each one by one.

He scoffs at a furry peacoat getup that he holds elevated above his shoulders. "From my grandmum," he solemnly informs.

I shamelessly snicker at him while offering Hedwig a treat. Following suit of my morning ritual I feed my pet snake and let him out of its cage to slither around our dorm.

"Well?" Malfoy gestures a hand toward my presents. "Are you _going_ to open them, or should I?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," I sigh while picking up the gift at the top of the pile. "I'll open them."

The first gift was from Hagrid, some more rock cakes that I almost shattered my teeth on last week; a gift from Ron's mother, a scratchy homemade sweater with letter 'H' on the front; a gift from Hermione, a copy of her favorite book with an attached note that instructed me to finish it by the end of break..

And one last mysterious parcel that I hadn't a single clue who it could be from.

"Stop staring at it already and _open _it," my snooty roommate demands.

I flip the package onto its front while tearing my finger through the tape. I pull out the silky contents that melts through my fingers. Using both hands to extend the intriguing garment, I stretch it out before my eyes.

"Well, at least it's more attractive than that bloody coat I received," Malfoy notes (correctly).

I look for a note that _should _have been attached to the package, but there's nothing. Just a simple parcel that was referenced to me.

"I don't have anyone who would send me this," I insist. "I haven't spoken with my parents since the beginning of term."

"Give it a try, then," he coolly suggests. "Can't hurt."

"Only if you try on yours," I counter.

"Like hell!"

I roll my eyes at him and place both feet on the carpet while throwing the cloak over my shoulders. A look of thorough horror crosses Malfoy's face as I stand up. His eyebrows furrow and he leans forward in his bed with a stern finger pointed at me.

The cloak couldn't be _that _ugly..

I let out a reluctant sigh while looking down at my chest, only to find that I can only see the bare ground beneath me. I gasp while impulsively jumping back a foot. I shimmy the cloak from off my shoulders as my limbs gradually reappear again.

"What the _bloody hell _is this?"

"Stop being so daft, will you?" Malfoy drawls. "It's an _invisibility cloak_, Potter. Not just anyone has one of those lying around."

Repositioning the enchanted silvery cloak in my hands, I stroke the surface with my thumb.

An _invisibility cloak_?

But who on earth could have sent me this?

"These are a laugh," Malfoy says, drawing my attention from the enchanted garment. He tosses over a package of Dungbombs that he had received from his older cousin who graduated from Hogwarts last year. "Imagine the damage that these could do.."

My mouth twists into a sinister smirk as I retrieve the invisibility cloak from my lap. I tilt my chin down and send him a deceitful smile while showcasing the garment. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

* * *

After opening our presents and attending the afternoon Christmas feast, Malfoy and I head to the quidditch pitch for some fresh air. The sun was setting and we were both growing tired from the amount of flying that we had done that day.

The night was nearing and it was time to place our plan into full effect.

We make it back to our room in gleeful anticipation. Malfoy shovels through his pile of gifts while retrieving the box of Dungbombs. "You're brilliant, Potter, have I ever told you that?"

"Not as much as I deserve," I reply with a smirk while retrieving my gifted cloak.

"Can you imagine the look on his face?"

"Are you kidding? It's all I've been thinking about all day."

I stand before the mirror and wrap the invisibility cloak around my shoulders to ensure that it's capabilities were still intact. As predicted, I could no longer see my torso, legs or arms, and I'm left as a floating head.

It was well past our curfew and the few Slytherins who stayed behind for the holiday had gone off to bed. Malfoy and I sneak out of our room beneath the invisibility cloak. I extend the cloak with my arms and hold it over our heads as he clutches the precious box of Dungbombs.

"_Ouch_," he hisses at me. "Stop stepping on my heels, will you?"

"Sorry," I say above a whisper. "Maybe if you'd quit abruptly stopping in place, I'd be able to avoid it."

"_Shut up_."

We both hold in a strained breath as we swing open the door to our common room. We nearly bump heads as we peek over the other side to the wall; checking for any professors or, worse, Filch.

"_Go_," I urge, pushing him out the door. I almost trip over the back of him and we sloppily stumble into the hallway. Luckily, the cloak was big enough to cover our fumbling bodies.

Ensuring that there was no one lurking around the corners, we adamantly make our way to Snape's office. If there was one person on campus who was deserving of a harmless prank on Christmas, it was our temperamental potions professor.

Our rapid footsteps come to more of an apprehensive tiptoe as we approach the vacant potions classroom. Snape's office was just around the corner. We share a snicker as Malfoy opens up the batch of Dungbombs, ready to disperse.

The flicker of a lantern suddenly flashes from around the corner as we halt in place.

"Do you think it's Snape?" Malfoy whispers.

I shrug my shoulders in response. It was a whole bloody castle after all. It could be anyone.

"Do you hear someone, Mrs. Norris?"

To our horror, we hear Filch's footsteps as he rounds about the corner; furiously stomping behind his cat with a lantern held over his head.

"In there!"

Much harder than intended, I shove Malfoy into one of the vacant bathrooms as I tumble behind him. We patiently wait for Filch to pass with baited breath. The caretaker eventually breezes past us and ascends the stairwell while trudging from out of our view.

"That was close," I mutter.

"_Bloody hell_!" Malfoy jolts as he starts wildly flailing his left leg about like a mad man.

"Would you _stop _moving?" I plead. "Filch is going to hear us!"

"It's that bloody reptile of yours!" he groans.

My lime green pet snake had wrapped itself around Malfoy's ankle, and with a quick kick of his leg, it goes soaring across the bathroom.

"You're going to hurt him!" I reprimand. I take initiative and position myself in front of Malfoy while leading us after my snake.

"Get back here!" I firmly instruct it.

"_Follow me,_" it whispers.

I stop in place as it eagerly slithers around the corner. I proceed to follow after it as Malfoy continues to complain. But unless he wanted to get caught by Filch, he had no choice other than to follow my lead. I was intent on catching my snake who I must have lost track of this morning, and nothing was going to stop me.

Not even my moody roommate.

"_This way_."

"Where are you leading us?" I ask it.

"What're you saying to it?" Malfoy frets. "Where's it going? Not _all _of us can understand parseltongue.."

"Maybe if you'd shut up, I'd be able to find that out."

"Fine."

"_Follow me_," the snake repeats. "_This way._"

We curiously trail behind it as it leads us into another room adjacent to our potions classroom. As soon as we enter the pitch dark chamber, the vision from my right eye begins to wildly sputter out of control.

"Ouch." I uncomfortably rub my irritated eye as it stings like never before.

"_Follow me_."

Utilizing my night vision, we're led toward a curious, ceiling high mirror that is dauntingly propped up in the corner of the dim lit area.

A lone window drapes along one of the elongated walls exposing the cast of the full moon. As if it were intentionally broadcasting the enticing mirror, the moon spotlights the contraption as we're unconsciously lured toward it.

My snake slithers across the floor while inching toward the mysterious device. It stretches its body against the length of the mirror while flicking its tongue along the surface.

"_This way._"

"I think it wants us to look into the mirror," I inform Malfoy. "Let's give it a go."

"_Why?_" he complains. "It's just a dusty old mirror."

I ignore my grouchy roommate's commentary and shut the classroom door behind us. Wasting no time, I strip the invisibility cloak from off our shoulders and hastily approach the intriguing mirror.


	22. The Mirror of Mystery

With a wave of unexplainable confidence, I prowl toward the mysterious mirror and ignore the muttered profanities from under Malfoy's breath as I center myself.

"It's just a bloody mirror!" he insists from behind me.

My expression drops as his words appeared to be truthful. But an innate curiosity left me determined to analyze the fascinating contraption.

I stare back at my reflection while narrowing my eyes and leaning closer for a better look. I observe the unruly mop of brunette hair on my head that begged to be brushed. My mouth is bent into a prominent frown and my un-sturdy glasses rest haphazardly on the bridge of my nose.

As I curiously tilt my head to the side, the appearance to the mirror slowly transforms into a smoky substance. The outline of two figures emit from the smoke as they take full form.

A couple in their thirties peer back at me with warm smiles on their faces. My stomach lurches as I instantly recognize the same man and woman from the picture that Hagrid showed me back at my house.

It was my _mother and father._

They each hold a hand clenched on either of my shoulders and they lightly nod their head as though they were trying to comfort me. There's a contradicting look of solemn hesitation in my mother's eye, matched by the same look of warning in my father's.

My breath hitches in my throat, and I gesture an encouraging arm toward Malfoy as I take a step closer.

"I think it's my parents," I inform in trepidation. "Come here, look!"

The enchanted image of my parents slowly dissolves as the blonde sticks his head out from behind my shoulder. He skeptically peers down his nose at the mirror while stroking his chin.

"Can you see them?"

"I can't see _anything_," he insists while shoving me to the side rather forcefully. I glare at my temperamental roommate as I wait for him to see for himself.

Malfoy's eyebrows slowly pinch together as his head curiously tilts to the side. Taking a hesitant step back, he glances between myself and the enchanted mirror.

"Do you see them now?"

"No," he replies with visible unease. "I see my father."

In a manner predictably as ungracefully as he had shoved me out of the way, I eagerly nudge his shoulder and re-center myself.

"Do you think.." The corners to my lips rise as I'm once again reacquainted with the warm smile of my biological parents. "Do you think it's a mirror that shows us our parents or something?"

"That's daft," he dismisses with the quick flick of his wrist. "What'd be the use of that?"

"Maybe it's our fondest memory," I suggest.

"Wrong again," he replies with a snooty disposition. "That'd be impossible. My father has never shown a trace of affection."

I raise an eyebrow at him as I watch him absently wrap his arms around himself in a protective manner. I didn't know much of Malfoy's father other than the fact that than the fact that he deeply neglect his son. It was predictable that he had never received much warmth from his father which, as he pointed out, dismissed my second theory.

"_What_?" he snarls at me.

"Nothing.. that's just.. really sad." The words fall out of my mouth quicker than I can think. I instantly regret what I said based off his blatant defensive body language.

"Don't _pity _me, Potter," he warns. His vision falls to the floor as his foot impatiently taps the concrete. "Can we get a move on, then?"

I jolt in place as I feel the sensation of something slithering up my leg. "Got you!" I triumphantly protest while gathering my defiant pet snake from my leg.

"Ah!" As if someone had simultaneously kicked burning hot ash into my right eye, I reflexively clench it shut. While rubbing it relentlessly, the snake continues to curl itself around my wrist. "It _burns_."

I wait for some sort of backhanded comment to be sent my way, but Malfoy remains patiently quiet. Hot tears stream down my face as I repetitively bat my eyelashes. The distortion in the vision of my right eye innately triggers some sort of emotional response as I let out a frustrated guttural growl. I feel my temperature rise as a deep-seated ferocity emerges from the depths of my chest.

Bent over in pain, I clench my hands on my knees while taking a deep breath.

"_Look again_," the snake speaks to me.

I glace over my shoulder at the daunting mirror while freezing in place. Straightening my posture, I'm instantly entranced by the new image that was presenting itself. Unexpected alleviation washes over my eye as I blink back the last of the aggravating tear drops.

Transitioning each eye, I shut my left and open the right and cycle back again. My right eye presents a new person standing behind me, and it certainly wasn't someone from my blood line.

My Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, gapes back at me with a sardonic expression. His face is tilted downward and he peers at me from out of the tops of his eyes with a sinister smirk. Similar to the same position that my parents were in, he clutches a hand around my shoulder with an undeniable look of pride.

It was as though he was trying to tell me something; to coax me to obey his demands.

And I'm all but consumed.

"What is it?" Malfoy asks with genuine curiosity in his tone.

"Quirrell," I simply reply.

"The famous Harry Potter; the illegitimate love child to the stuttering buffoon, Quirrell?" he muses. "If your theory stands correct.."

"Shut up," I bark at him. "He's not my father you prat."

Keeping my left eye shut, I curiously peer into the reflection, searching for answers. Our professor gradually nods his head while directing a finger toward my lower body. It's in that moment that I notice a protrusion from the pocket to my pants in the reflection; about the size of a golf ball.

"He's.. he's trying to point out something in my pants," I ogle while gripping my slacks.

"Grown a stiffy for our professor, have you?"

My visional contact is broken as I send an agitated eyeroll toward my roommate. He shoots back an amused smirk, but the consequential incredulous glint in his eye matched my hesitation.

Quirrell continues to encouragingly nod his head as my fingers trace over the lump in my pocket. My index finger slips into the fold as the snake continues to lure me with its native speech.

"_Find the stone,_" it tempts, "_And I will give you infinite power. Join me, Harry Potter.._"

"What's the insufferable reptile saying now?" Malfoy asks impatiently.

"It's.." My mind goes blank as I feel the sudden urge to keep this sentiment to myself. Not only did I sound barking mad to reveal that the snake was trying to direct me toward some sort of unidentifiable stone, but it also felt like an intimate subject that was solely meant between myself and the perplexing creature. "It's telling me to make sure I finish my homework," I lamely reply. "Before break is over. Or I'll be in trouble with Quirrell.."

Malfoy replies with some sort of 'pfft', dismissive response while flicking the back of his hand at me. But his expression softens as he tilts his head to the side and his eyes critique the serpent now wound around my wrist. "Have you told Dumbledore?" he asks with detectable concern.

"That I was gifted a pet snake?"

"No," he replies firmly. "It seems as though undisclosed presents aren't that unusual for someone such as yourself."

"Then how do you mean?"

"The fact that you can _speak _to it, you daft thing," he reprimands, the sound of irritation returning to his voice. "Not just everyone can speak parseltongue."

"Well.. no.. I haven't."

"And your eye?"

I awkwardly scratch the back of my head while my eyes dart from side to side. I'm growing increasingly uncomfortable in the conversation, presumably due to the fact that I'm growing increasingly guilty with each question thrown at me.

There were many things that I hadn't told Dumbledore, and there were many things that innately told me I _shouldn't._

I was gifted with a plethora of odd features, some unbeknownst to its origins, and it was something I had grown used to. I didn't need the headmaster's help in discerning my freakish abilities.

"_Look again._"

Uncontrollably abiding by my snake's unsettling demands, I glance one more over to the mirror and freeze in place.

The reflection exhibits a wide smirk on my face which doesn't match my current expression. Both of my eyes shine a yellowish tint against the glass, representing the transfiguration of my healthy eye being overcome by the other. My pupils are morphed into precise serpentine slivers, in the shape of diamonds, against the murky yellow backdrop of my irises.

In the reflection, my face cracks into hearty laughter as the Hogwarts castle appears behind me, engulfed in flames. I stand tall beside Quirrell who joins in on the sinister snicker.

"_I can promise you a life of eternity and riches beyond wealth_," the snake speaks as if it were narrating the picture transpiring before me. "_We will make an unstoppable force, laughing in the faces of our enemies._"

A powerful surge of adrenaline rushes through the course of my body as I'm brought back to the present. I have the urge to both vomit and scream as I take a tentative step back. The blood rushes from out of my face as I turn to Malfoy who gapes back at me incredulously.

"You look as though you've seen a ghost," he reads my expression.

I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. A bellowing meow can suddenly be heard from down the corridor relieving myself from the compromising conversation.

"_Shit!_" he hisses as his face turns an equivalent shade of ivory. "Filch!"

Scurrying to our feet, we rush toward the invisibility cloak and drape it over our heads. I keep a firm grip on my pet snake while shoving Malfoy in the direction of the exit. As we tiptoe out of the corridor, I never lose sight of the daunting mirror.

By use of the utterly convenient undisclosed Christmas present, I make a promise to myself that I would soon return.


End file.
